Fuck. No.
I was just watching a random Celine Dion song, picturized by a random world citizen (Because You Love Me is the song, still desperate to get in the sappy mood, yes) and I realized something:
I refuse to become the subject of a wish-you-were-here or a I-miss-you song or that of a (you)-could-have-been-(something-big)/you-had-so-much-potential story. I refuse to be the evidence (as a See!-that's-why) of the Carpe Diem verdict. I refuse to be a dying memory, slowly fading away of one's mind only to remain a fade memory of an idealized and false depiction of me. I refuse to.