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 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.
are people really that emotionally inept that they feel that way? i cant even imagine the energy it would take to miss every single stranger you pass. what happens in a crowd? do you just explode from all the bereft?
(via postsecret)
I usually wonder if they’re happy