When you play the field selfishly everything works against you: one canโt insist on love or demand affection. youโre finally left with whatever you have been willing to give which often is: nothing.
Charles BukowskiPain is strange. A cat killing a bird, a car accident, a fire.... Pain arrives, BANG, and there it is, it sits on you. It's real. And to anybody watching, you look foolish. Like you've suddenly become an idiot. There's no cure for it unless you know somebody who understands how you feel, and knows how to help.
Charles Bukowski