- Her: I don’t love you anymore.
- Him: Since when?
- Her: I don’t know.
- Him: God dammit. Since when?
- Her: I said I don’t know.
- Him: To hell you do. Stop playing with me.
- Her: I’m not playing.
- Him: Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t fucking love me. Say it.
"
Great writers are indecent people
they live unfairly
saving the best part for paper.
Good human beings save the world
so that bastards like me can keep creating art,
become immortal.
if you read this after I am dead
it means I made it.
Charles Bukowski,
(Source: arabzy)
