writers
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Yes, I used AI for a cover. A picture. A frame. A doorway into something I had already written with my own two hands. But the words? The words were mine. The grief was mine. The memories I had to drag up from places I spent years trying to bury were mine. The bruises were…
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You called me lazy with an algorithm in your pocket. Called me fake from an app that finishes your thoughts before you type them. You preached purity beneath a search bar that literally says AI. But sure— tell me again how untouched you are. Tell me how your hands are clean while your feed decides…
