should i let AI slop fry my brain?
its too cold out and im stuck on the subway
Winter, in theory, should make any sane person go mad. Grey days bleed into merciless nights. It takes and takes and takes from you, until you’re nothing more than dry skin and shivering bones. Walk to work in the dark, leave in the dark. Kiss your lover on the lips over and over again just to feel something. Drink mulled wine less for the taste and more for the warmth. Remember every little thing from your childhood as the wind slaps your face at the crosswalk.
It’s brutal—death is knocking at the door, and I’m expected not to answer, to go on my merry way, as if I can’t see the beast’s teeth dripping with blood. My instincts tell me to run, far, far away, preferably toward a beach (a patch of grass in the sunlight would do), yet all I want to do is curl up beside the awful, ugly creature and hold it in my arms because, in the dark, we all look scarier than we really are.
Escapism is the only answer to such harsh conditions. Bury myself beneath blankets, into the embrace of the only man that’s ever loved me properly. Pretend the snow outside isn’t a mass murderer. Say goodbye to the flowers and leaves and greenery until May. There’s nothing to do, but I still won’t turn on one of the films sitting idle on my Letterboxd watchlist. Instead, I’ll scroll scroll scroll my thoughts away, searching for comfort in the vast nothingness that’s waiting for me. I convince myself that the next video will satisfy my hunger. When it doesn’t, I barely muster a shrug; it doesn’t matter anyway. I have all the time in the world, I’ll spend the next 5 months sinking further and further into the abyss of AI slop and brainrot because why the hell not. Now is not the time to find myself; Winter beacons forth death, and I must oblige. The death of my brain, that is. If I consume enough shitty content, the next time I blink, it will be Spring.
So much for shutting off my brain and hibernating; now I have to settle for escapist distractions marketed as content. AI is becoming too difficult to spot, and my eyesight is dwindling. At this point, if all that’s left to see are ads and AI couple pics I might as well throw my glasses away. What’s the point???? Where’s the art????
The world has fallen asleep at the wheel, and no one is stepping up to steer the car. Pure luck is the only explanation for why the vehicle hasn’t crashed into a tree yet. By the time it does, everyone will be too distracted by 10-second TikTok videos to notice. Each day is a reminder that no one is paying attention, certainly not to me. I could run down the street screaming at the top of my lungs, drunk off the sweet kiss of despair, and no one would bat an eye. How glorious, to live in such a state of surveillance that invisibility can be summoned simply by logging off. No one heeds the real world; we only react to craziness we see online.
Winter annihilates time just as having your nose shoved in your phone does. Minutes tick by without notice as existence drags on. The girl on the subway beside me is reading smut, and the guy across from me is watching YouTube videos without headphones on. Without anything to look at (my phone is dead), I’m automatically the creep with big beady eyes and sweaty palms. Still, no one notices me. I want to beg for attention, but my winter coat is too heavy, and my hat is making my forehead itch in the way that I know is going to leave a bright red spot. What would I say if they did look my way? I spend most of my time writing poetry in my notes app and I think a lot about death even though I’m not that afraid of it and I’m really not that much better than you my phone is just dead, if it wasn’t I would probably be watching a reddit storytime tiktok that cuts off before it gets to the juicy stuff and I scurry to find part 2 in a stranger’s reposts.
Yesterday I texted my boyfriend should I get a gaming PC? which means I should probably call my therapist. I’m bored and stuck inside and itching to fry my brain further. Winter asks nothing of me, and I still can’t give it that. My self-obsession gets more abstruse when I’m forced indoors, when I’m stripped of the ability to touch grass. A permeating numbness crawls through my veins; I coat checked my life force during daylight savings and lost my ticket. The world is too burdensome during these long, drawn-out months. Sincerity never feels earnest while I’m focused on survival. Besides, Winter is best approached with irony.
My phone shows me ads for hideous bras and Ozempic. I notice my collarbones aren’t as prominent as they once were, and I consider injecting myself with diabetes medicine for a second longer than is probably healthy. The cold breeze leaves my legs shaking and not in a pleasurable way. I slip on ice, and the kids in the playground beside me snicker, and I think about sneering until I remember I’m trying to be the kind of person that doesn’t sneer at children.
Winter is such a performance, such a chore—leaving the house, moving my body, eating a balanced meal. All of it so prosaic, yet dreadful. I need hobbies outside of scrolling. It’s cold and cruel and my phone seems like the best getaway vehicle. Cheap thrills. It can take me anywhere, let me be anyone; someone who wears dark cherry lipstick and has a smaller nose, whose Winter photodumps make the season seem like a fairytale. Instead, I log on to shitpost and share political memes and publish diary entries in hopes that someone will tell me I’m not crazy, the world is. And actually, it’s entirely normal to lean into the ominous nature of the season.
Outside is too cold to endure, so I’ll spend my time here, online. Will I escape? Do I want to? The question hangs heavy in the air, but I can see my breath, and my bus is coming, and if I slip on unsalted ice again, I might start running an AI influencer account to spite it all.
Wow! There’s more than 1,000 of you here now. I find that very hard to believe, but am extremely grateful to have you here. I’ve been going through a bit of writer’s block recently, so I forced myself to sit down and write something, and this is what I got. Not a thinkpiece, more of a diary entry. I’ve strayed from these more personal musings over the last few months, but I always find my way back to my roots. I’ll always overshare on the internet.
Anyway, I’m glad to have you here and hope you stick around <3







i feel like the agony coming from the feeling of losing yourself bit by bit to the slop filled scrollings is not dwelled on enough, so i think we try to be seen sharing this misery of heart. No you are not crazy.
Dw girl I get you, you aren’t crazy. The world is.