charming, really. @rachaelrae - Tumblr Blog

I don’t want to wake up lonely I don’t want to just be fine I don’t want to keep on hoping Forget what I have in mind.

How To Pick A Doctor (Or Break Up With One)

Finding a good primary care doctor can feel a little bit like dating. It’s awkward. Your expectations are high. You know it’s rough out there, but you’re still secretly hoping to find the one.

So where do you begin? Just like dating, finding a doctor you click with is all about trusting your intuition.

“What you get in a snapshot isn’t that far from the truth,” says Dr. Kimberly Manning, a primary care doctor and associate professor at Emory University. “In terms of interactions, in how someone talks to you — I think those things can be really powerful markers to help you decide if this is a good fit.”

Read the full story here

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…it means you’re out of that cave. ― jim hopper, stranger things

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Typewriter Series #2659 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Marvel, we do at the rare and exotic, the fleeting or infrequent to visit. We point out the speckles, the color, the grace and the splendor.

Daily we are visited by the magpie, plain and common they say, a nuisance we’ve grown accustomed to. Some shoo them off, scare them into avoiding their homes.  I sit quiet and watch them circle, watch them shine iridescent when the sun hits the black feathers, gape at the contrast of white and the brilliance as they solve tiny problems. How do we forget that ordinary is Every bit as beautiful?

-Tyler Knott Gregson-

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kthrynhahn

Feelings. Feelings. Jesus. The truth is, for so long I’d forgotten what those even were. I’ve been stuck in one place. In a cave, you might say. A deep dark cave. And then… I left some Eggo’s out in the woods and you came into my life and for the first time in a long time I started to feel things again. I started to feel happy.

leiaslo

Seven…feet. You told her the wave was seven feet. You ran to her on the beach. There were seagulls. She wore a hat with a blue ribbon. A long dress with a blue and red flower. And yellow sandals, covered in sand. She was pretty. She was really pretty. And you…you were happy.

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Eleven and Max having fun!

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PAPA STEVE!

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thirst

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tylerknott

Typewriter Series #2488 by Tyler Knott Gregson

Text for Tired Eyes:

Buzzing like bumbles in the back corners of a beautiful dream, I see them, pictures of wishes, a slideshow of hopes for all the time that is yet to come. I see wilderness, fog rising like cloth, blowing in the wind like drying on the line, I see sunrise that belongs to us all, I see dirt roads and dust hanging in low sunbeams, I see stars, I see so many stars. Somewhere, growing like branches to Spring light, I see moments like leaves, flickering into a soft breeze, pieces of a life not yet lived. I see storms rolling across a landscape slow and determined, the pattern of footsteps that vanish increasingly as they near the sea foam and the sand, I see wind in hair and lips curved into a smile, I see the wild in me responding, as if primal, as if unlearned but known, as if a howl to join a chorus of howling, far off beyond the tree line, out where the darkness begins.

-Tyler Knott Gregson-