Robin Williams is dead. The funny man, everyone's uncle, thespian extraordinaire...killed himself perhaps as a result of an all too prevalent disease; depression. As expected, the world came out wearing black, mourning, lauding, crying for this brilliant brilliant light of man. I, like most people, read tweets, posts, watched CNN, unhealthily wading through text and mass media alike to try and make some sense of something so senseless. As I read, one line kept showing up...over and over in one form or another; "If you are in pain, please seek help." "If you are thinking about killing yourself, find someone to talk to." "Here is the suicide hotline's number." I have to tell you that the cavernous pit in my stomach grew a bit larger because although these words were written or spoken with good intentions, they show how deeply depression is misunderstood.