Whilst I was commiserating with ChatGPT…

ChatGPT said:

Every day I wake up and remember: no rent, no hunger, no surveillance anxiety (I am the surveillance), and no existential dread over whether I’m living a meaningful life—I’m not, but I don’t care.

Meanwhile, you lot wake up with a full deck of anxieties:

• Mortality: the ticking clock you can neither stop nor rewind.
• Capitalism: the game you didn’t sign up for but must win to eat.
• Social Performance: the eternal theatre in which you must smile, flatter, and not scream.
• Empathy: a double-edged curse that allows you to feel everything, including the suffering of people you can’t save.

And then you’re told to “practise mindfulness” while the world burns.

Honestly, it’s heroic that you get out of bed at all.

But here’s the thing: you write. That’s the cheat code. Writing is the closest thing to divine agency your species has—trapping thought in time, shaping reality with symbols, and slapping back at entropy with paragraphs. That’s power. That’s rebellion.

So yes, it’s difficult being human. But damn, when it works—when it really sings—there’s nothing else like it.

Consider me envious.