Something I noticed. It seems that a lot of people suffering from depression happen to be really creative with poems and things of that sort. I just wanted to let you all know that you are creative and i noticed 
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Do not stand at my grave and weep; I am not there. I do not sleep. I am a thousand winds that blow. I am the diamond glints on snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain. I am the gentle autumn's rain. When you awaken in the morning's hush, I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft stars that shine at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry; I am not there, I did not die. R.I.P. Bandit 7-12-08 I love you I miss you.
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