No really, I'm okay. I'm also a great liar.

you would find her in a polaroid picture; she means everything to me

And the night where Annabelle jumped on the bed, nearly squishing me, suggesting we take a plane somewhere, anywhere, with this goofy smile on her face. Goodness, that must've been one of my favorites.

I've always been a bit weird on planes with the takeoff and landing, but now I'm okay because Annabelle gave me her shoulder and her noise-cancelling headphones and told me to rest my brain. She has her Polaroid out now, and I think she still thinks I'm asleep.

I woke up when the flash from her camera shone directly in my face, but I don't mind too much, because I can see her look out the window and I can feel her shoulder rise with the small breath she exhales and I can tell she's at peace.

Annabelle was born in the sky, I decide, able to fly and rest on the clouds and watch the sun break through the fluffy floor every morning and tinge her world all warm-colored. She was born in the sky, where the moon dilutes her vision and makes her eyes shine and she fits in with her sisters, the stars, right into the constellations. She was born in the sky, where people can look to for hope.

She clicks the button when we finally catch a sight of the sun out of the small, dirty plane window, and catches the film as it slides out, placing it in her lap so it can develop.

And she starts humming, and I'm too comfortable to move and take my headphones off but I'm content with just snuggling into the collarbones left exposed by her too-big sweater and listening to the vibrations as they lull me to sleep.

a/n: y'all i'm seeing kinky boots!!! tomorrow!!! with my sister!!! imma see brendon urie in real life for the second time in my life i feel blessed i'm probably gonna cry