When I was 6 I went to a birthday party at my friends house. Everything was fine until we went upstairs to her bedroom. For some reason I had a melt down. I cried and cried for no apparent reason, I think I was saying that I was scared. I think it was written off as me being scared to be separated from my family or something? I don't quite remember what had happened, I only remember my friends older sister walking me home. I had played at her house before, but mostly outside. A few years later I slept at her house. Her bedroom was no longer the room in the corner, instead it was in an over-sized hallway, but that did not matter because we slept in the living room. Why is that? Because her house was haunted and her bedroom was where the ghosts usually stayed.
So yeah, I believe in ghosts.