RIP: Why The Latest To Die On 'GOT' Should Not Be Resurrected

Warning: Spoilers are revealed throughout this article.

Once "Game of Thrones" fans settled down after the initial shock of last night’s season finale, and the barrage of caps-locked and profanity-laced tweets and text messages slowed, we had some time to think.

A new theory emerged: Jon Snow is either not really dead (despite all visual and logical evidence strongly suggesting so), or if he is dead, he won’t be for long.

We’re talking resurrection.

It will probably be at the hands of Melisandre, who took a keen interest in Snow’s blood earlier on in the season.

It's the same blood the camera focused on in the very last shot of the season as it oozed and pooled from Snow’s back onto the, well, snow.

And, if there’s one thing fans know well about "Game of Thrones," it’s that cinematic subtlety isn’t really the show’s thing.

The Melisandre theory is the most popular one, but after “Hardhome,” it doesn’t seem impossible Snow’s body might rise like the bodies of so many wildlings to join the White Walker army, either.

Again, this theory is based on the show’s affection for cinematic foreshadowing.

These theories seem to be a “stages of grief” type of thing. Yeah, we’re experiencing classic symptoms: shock (OMG!), disbelief (He’s not dead!), bargaining (Melisandre! White Walkers! Direwolves! Anything!), anger (I hate this show!), depression (staring at pictures of Ygritte and Jon Snow making out with tears in our eyes) and hope (He can't be dead!).

But, we’re crafting our emotional responses based upon years worth of evidence within the show.

I’m here, though, to try to replace hope, the seventh stage, with acceptance.

I think Jon Snow is dead, and I think he should stay dead for the sake of the show, for the sake of the fans and for the sake of my own personal sanity.

I got a text from a friend at the end of last night’s episode that said, “They don’t care about our feelings.”

At this point, I was still pacing around my living room and shouting at my confused mom (who was hardly paying attention to the episode) about how it didn’t make any sense they would kill off Snow. But, when I read that text, it did make sense.

They don’t care about our feelings.

They’ve killed off likable characters before, and they've done so in the most gut-wrenching ways possible (think: "Red Wedding" or Ned Stark’s head on a spike).

What makes Jon Snow's death different, however, is they’ve already killed off so many of the likable characters.

Taking away one of our last few beacons of hope in the series is needlessly cruel. What characters do we even have left whom we can fully place our trust and confidence in?

The resurrection theory is bred from this question. There’s no doubt about it.

This is where our bargaining and our pleading come into play. We have no one left to hope for, no savior left, and so we fall back on the good ol’ Christ symbolism.

And, really, if there were a Christ figure in the whole series, wouldn’t it be Jon Snow?

He's good, pure-hearted, wishes he could have saved more wildlings and doesn’t fall to the temptations of Melisandre’s nakedness because he still loves Ygritte.

We’re no strangers to the resurrection plot line, and neither is George R.R. Martin.

I’ve never read the books (and I don’t plan to because I’m weak for the cinematic experience of the TV show), but I don’t think George R.R. Martin can resist the urge to resurrect or to slip in a little Christ symbolism.

It’s too clean and too classical a way to show the fans "this is the one you were meant to root for" and "this is how good Jon Snow is." An expansive fantasy storyline such as this cannot miss out on it.

And that’s exactly why I don’t want it to happen.

If Jon Snow is resurrected, if he leads an army of men to kill all of the White Walkers and marches south to take the Iron Throne, and if he lives and reigns in peace and is universally adored, it will not be for the fans of the show.

It will be for the writers and for George R.R. Martin.

He didn’t kill him so violently in a series finale -- his trust betrayed by the men he lived to lead and protect -- just so we would be thrilled at his rising again.

George R.R. Martin and the writers did so because they don’t care about our feelings.

They assume our loyalty, our viewership. They are merciless.

His resurrection will not be redemption, but a flex of the cinematic resources HBO has. His death was a betrayal of the fans whose loyalty has lent the show those resources.

Leave him dead. Let him meet up with Ygritte in some weird, snowy but not too cold, sexy, eternal paradise.

Let the show redeem itself in other ways. Don’t show off, and don’t let the show take the easy, flashy way out.

Let the audience grieve, and let us move on. Let him rest, and let us be.