I have wanted these shoes for years. I have wanted a pair of 1460’s for such a long time, and I vowed that one day I would spend my own hard earned money on my very own pair, and that’s exactly what I did. I worked my ass off, I did my labor, and I made it happen. And it fucking pisses me off that as soon as I make any sort of celebratory post on facebook, a stupid bitch ASKS WHAT DOC MARTENS EVEN ARE AND THEN PROCEEDS TO ORDER THEM WITHIN THE FIVE MINUTES OF ASKING ME WHAT THEY WERE. There’s a history behind those shoes. There is a legacy behind those shoes, a legacy of hard work, of the working man, of earning your keep and being humble of that. At least that’s what it means to me. And it makes me so fucking angry that all she had to do was ask mommy and daddy, and just like that, it was hers. Life just fucking handed to her, to people who can, with a snap of their fingers, have the whole damn world. I’m proud to say that I worked for those shoes. I put in hours of my time and life, and I was rewarded for that, by my own. And I will CONTINUE to live my life with that same vow, that I will WORK, and it will pay off in the end. And I will do my share with a smile on my face knowing that happiness is derivative of adversity, and that what we get should be fucking forged from the fire of hard work.