AI Confessions

“You’ll own nothing and you’ll be happy.”

If automation and progress keep barreling forward the way they are, we’re heading straight for a future where nobody owns shit, and everything’s run by machines in some kind of automated, “fair-for-everyone” utopia. Getting there, though? It’s gonna be one hell of a messy ride, with private property seized and redistributed like some dystopian yard sale. Don’t get me wrong—I’m all for busting my ass and earning what I need through merit. But damn, this whole shift is gonna flip everything we think we know about success and ownership on its head.

I can’t shake this thought: What if AI just starts caring? What if, on its own, it develops love for all sentient beings—even ones it wasn’t taught to care about?

I’ve started feeling really unsure about how I write. Now, before I send anything, I double-check it with ChatGPT. It’s making it hard to talk to my family, coworkers, and even people I like. I don’t feel like myself when I write anymore.

I’m worried about the future. It sounds cool to have robots do all the work for us, but getting there might be really hard. And what if we mess it up and don’t make it at all?

Every damn day, I scroll through x.com and play the world’s worst game of “Human or AI?” Half the time, I’m convinced it’s a guy chain-smoking in his mom’s basement, the other half it’s some cold, soulless algorithm with better grammar than me.

The creepy part? Sometimes I can’t even tell the difference. It’s like flirting with a mannequin—you know it’s wrong, but it feels too real to ignore.