<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar/9170993777715363210?origin\x3dhttps://leathershorts.blogspot.com', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>
“To travel is to live.” -Hans Christian Andersen

Gifts
Sunday, May 21, 2017 @ 5:50 PM

I got flowers last night. Always happy to receive them. But in that split second, a smidge of not-so-good thought entered my mind. Did he do something wrong? Are these apology flowers? Did he cheat on me? Why?! Then I get a little bit too hysterical in my head. Fortunately before I could say and/or ask anything stupid and probably start a fight that shouldn't have happened anyway, I told myself to accept them, say thank you and appreciate it.

Sometimes it's hard to accept being treated nice. Probably the shit men I have dated. Or rather, the one before this. I've been led to believe that anything remotely good isn't what it seems, but rather a little "bribe" for something later. I have been taught by that to never think a gift could be just a gift. I'm more than glad that part of my life is over.

Not sure what I ever did to deserve you in my life right now, but I thank my lucky stars that we met, and you make me so happy and I just wanna squish the life out of you with all my love. 


I

samantha t.
too tall for my own shoes

1993
☼☼☼
lookbook.nu