Memento mori

Sometimes feelings are complicated, especially when something we know we can't fix or prevent happens. At that moment when that happens, we could just stand helplessly and witness the event passed by...albeit helplessly, countless regrets and questions...but to defer it would be too cruel, the beauty of watching something helplessly drown and wasted...Everything passes, love, relationship, things around you, nothing is permanent. That's why people prefer live flowers than plastics, only to satisfy the gratification of a glimpse of youth and beauty and of life itself. But in the end, only the plastics would remain, ircorruptible, always beautiful, always lively...in the end, truly, they are the immortals.

Below is an excerpt from Milan Kundera's 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being:
Human life is stripped of meaning, and thus fundamentally "light" and without substance, because we may travel through it only once, and make only one set of choices. "We can never know what we want", "because, living only one life, we can neither compare it to our previous lives nor perfect it in our lives to come." This idea has its origins in Friedrich Nietzsche's idea of the "Eternal Return", or "Eternal Recurrence", one of the primary ideas of his Also Sprach Zarathustra. In the Eternal Recurrence, we (re)live each and every moment of our lives over and over again, into eternity. Nietzsche found the prospect of this to be terrifying, calling it das schwerste Gewicht, the heaviest burden.

We live everything as it comes, without warning, like an actor going on cold. And what can life be worth if the first rehearsal for life is life itself? That is why life is always like a sketch. No, "sketch" is not quite the word, because a sketch is an outline of something, the groundwork for a picture, whereas the sketch that is our life is a sketch for nothing, an outline with no picture.