nibha ⋆˚꩜。
https://www.youtube.com/@nibhasdigitaldiary

“I’m sorry—I’m sorry—I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything I did to you,” he said, his voice hoarse and broken. “I love you. You left, and I’d never told you.”
― Manacled
― Manacled

“You want to watch the world burn?"
"Let me guess, you'll set it on fire?" I ask.
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me settling into my bones.
"No, darling. I'll hand you the match, and stand at your back, watching you become queen of the ashes.”
― Hooked
"Let me guess, you'll set it on fire?" I ask.
He chuckles, the sound vibrating through me settling into my bones.
"No, darling. I'll hand you the match, and stand at your back, watching you become queen of the ashes.”
― Hooked

“What is a person, if not the marks they leave behind?”
― The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue
― The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue

“I always have to choose, and I never get to choose you. I'm tired of not getting to choose you”
― Manacled
― Manacled

“How many loves do you get in a lifetime?
How many people do you get to call yours? There are all sorts of loves in this world, not all of them, but most of them are beautiful. Some are old, some noble, some brave. Others are dishonourable and weak and make you so by association. Some are a low whisper on a sombre night, some are maddening. Some you can’t ignore—they slow-burn inside of you, never quite going out completely but you’re too scared to dare try to fan that flame. Some loves you pretend you don’t feel, even when you can, even when you know you do, even if he’s the first thing you think of in the morning, even if he’s like a match in the darkened room of your heart—because loving something how you love him is a painful love that puts rocks in your pockets and melancholy in your eyeballs and if time has taught you anything it’s that it doesn’t matter. You’ll love him forever anyway.”
― Magnolia Parks
How many people do you get to call yours? There are all sorts of loves in this world, not all of them, but most of them are beautiful. Some are old, some noble, some brave. Others are dishonourable and weak and make you so by association. Some are a low whisper on a sombre night, some are maddening. Some you can’t ignore—they slow-burn inside of you, never quite going out completely but you’re too scared to dare try to fan that flame. Some loves you pretend you don’t feel, even when you can, even when you know you do, even if he’s the first thing you think of in the morning, even if he’s like a match in the darkened room of your heart—because loving something how you love him is a painful love that puts rocks in your pockets and melancholy in your eyeballs and if time has taught you anything it’s that it doesn’t matter. You’ll love him forever anyway.”
― Magnolia Parks

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