From the couch, the quaint living room with an oversized remote control taking up much of the coffee table--to the backseat of my parents' car going somewhere, doing something in Olean, New York--to Dizzler.com, with its tornado-ribbon logo in my friend’s living room, Prince was there. If you watch my early YouTube videos, the ones in 2009 when copyright didn’t scare me, the single-clip fingerboarding videos, you can hear “Lady Cab Driver” or “Pink Cashmere” blaring on the little American Idol speaker I got from a cereal box mail-in offer. But Prince’s music meant far more to me than an envelope full of box tops. Unlike all the other artists, like The Beatles, Keaton Henson, AC/DC, The Front Bottoms, Sleeping With Sirens, whatever, Prince has been the only one whose music and charisma I’ve continuously gravitated towards. I’ve watched “Purple Rain” more times than I can remember in more places than the film is set. My MySpace music player was exclusively Prince, topped by “Gett Off,” a song I had no idea of the sexual explicitness of, but loved how funky it was, how unapologetic it sounded coming from small Compaq speakers.

I fell in love with Prince’s music and mannerisms from such a young age because he wasn’t like anyone I had ever heard or seen. To be able to wear heels, eyeliner, and be soft-spoken as a man yet still be widely respected is so inspirational. To be able to break down the walls erected by gender expectations and essentially be what you want is something the world needs to take note of. I feel awful because I’ll truly never be able to do his legacy justice. No matter how I put it, Prince will always be indescribable. He sings falsetto on songs like “Kiss,” with such memorable lines as “you can’t be too flirty, momma. I know how to undress me,” commenting on how acting your age and maturity is far more appealing than acting dumb to get attention. And songs like “I Wanna Be Your Lover,” a straight-up jam that has to be heard to be loved.

For his first album, "For You," Prince is credited with having played all 27 instruments involved in its recording. This is what sets Prince apart from other musicians. And mainstream “musicians” today rely on machines, producers, and what-have-you to make sh*tty songs about being this or that, songs laden with clichés and whiny bullsh*t. Prince and Michael Jackson might also be the only two artists I’ve heard that can get away with screaming, moaning, breathing, or making high-pitched noises on their tracks. For them, these sounds enhance their songs, whereas artists nowadays are just filling time because their music isn’t good. Fight me. And Prince may also be one of the world's most underrated guitarists. Hopefully him absolutely slaying George Harrison's solo from "While My Guitar Gently Weeps" will speak for itself. I already took the liberty of getting you to where the magic starts.

And yet, I feel somewhat hypocritical because I haven’t been too vocal about my love of Prince. Honestly, maybe I was afraid of what people would think. I’d listen to him by myself, sadly never sharing his incredible work with anyone. If I had any regret in life, this’d be it. Prince’s music has affected me in so many ways, probably for the last nine or so years. For God’s sake, lyrics from “I Would Die 4 U” were my YouTube bio up until Google changed the format. “I’m not a human, I am a dove. I’m your conscience, I am love.” And when The All-American Rejects started singing the chorus of that song at Lyco’s spring concert, I was screaming the gaps back at them. F*ck, I wish they did a cover. That would have made my life. The All-American Rejects are a great example of the diverse influence Prince has had on musicians. On Instagram, I was surprised at how many people paid their respects, especially those I would have never expected Prince’s magic to reach, like WELCOME skateboards, whose Prince centaur graphic was one of their first ever made; Steve Caballero, skateboarding legend from the Bones Brigade; Phil Guy (Burrito Breath), known for his four eyes on just about anything for his graphics; Drew Toonz, cartoonist, creator of Emo Cat and social satirist; and Yoon Sul, skateboarding photographer. Sure, the majority of the people listed above are affiliated with skateboarding in some way, but that just further demonstrates my point that Prince’s influence permeated some of the farthest reaches of society. Although these people are not musicians, they are artists in their own right, true artists, who make a living doing what they love, just as Prince did.

As a species, we're always trying to find the next greatest whatever, whether that be the next Rembrandt, Andy Warhol, David Bowie, John Lennon, Prince, whoever, in order to fill the void left in their absence because we just can’t imagine a world without these people.

But how about we f*cking stop? If these people meant half as much as we say they did, why would we want pitiful imitations to muddy their pristine images? These are the people graphic T-shirt companies make killings off once they die. Heartless companies trying to capitalize on the loss of someone truly irreplaceable to make a quick buck. I don’t care if, as you read this, you’re tossing $14 at a Walmart cashier for a Doors T-shirt, scuffed up to make it look “vintage.” If we really loved these artists, why would we pay for anything less than their entirety? Prince cannot be summarized on a T-shirt, nor is he just a price tag millions of heartbroken fans will be flocking to because big biz thinks it’s appropriate to line their own pockets by using people’s emotions against them. Prince will live on with or without you. All artists, regardless of how much businesses mass produce their images, will live on.

So, rest in peace, Prince. You’ve changed my life, as well as millions of others’.