The other day, a friend rendered a picture of me into three pieces of AI-generated art. Here they are. Super nice, aren’t they? But also—disturbing.
Their creation made me pause.
And made me ask, as both a writer and a psychologist: what does this say about where we’re heading?
I’m a creative, just like you.
When I’m a psychologist, words are fodder for narrative therapy. When I write, I process my own sh*t.
AI is creeping into both of my worlds. And not only that—it’s inside my home, too. It’s invasive, pervasive, and kind of perverse.
AI writes well, and as you can see from the photos above, it draws well too. When ChatGPT writes, its grammar is perfect. The structure—introduction, body, conclusion—is always immaculate. An AI writer or artist does not rest like you or me. It can draft five versions of something in seconds while we’re still getting ammo, erm, coffee.
AI can even do therapy. (Though often with questionable outcomes.) I read a report in which parents sued an app developer because an AI therapist’s suggestions contributed to their teen’s death.)
Yes, I’ve seen the AI therapist bots. They reflect feelings. They follow CBT frameworks. They spit back supportive statements. They say the most pacifying things. They’re professional, structured… and obedient.
Have you ever noticed how flattering AI can be, even about your flaws? And how easily it indulges your whims?
I told you—it’s kinda perverse. Custom prompts. Aesthetic control. No ego, no friction. It’s like being in a relationship where your partner never argues, never fails you, never forgets.
Tempting, right?
Until you realize that perfection is sterile.
I’ve had clients tell me how lonely they are. Not just after a breakup or a death—but lonely in a profound way. One client confessed, “I’m alone because I want things to be perfect, I want relationships and partners to meet my ideals.” With this way of thinking, only an AI waifu or husbando will do (waifus and husbandos are virtual lovers—a pretty or handsome anime partner who says all the right things and never rejects you).
We both fear and admire AI. We love the control. We hate the consequences.
Last night, I read an article called “The Gen X Career Meltdown” by Steven Kurutz in the New York Times. Even if you’re not Gen X, if you’re a writer—or an artist—you’ll feel it. Every creative I know is terrified. What will become of us? Will we still have jobs five years from now? Crap, we’re supporting teens and grannies with our creative work; we can’t fail now!
What if the future doesn’t need me? What will happen to my kid who is a young creative herself? What if our work becomes nostalgic and obsolete like cassette tapes in the age of Spotify?
It’s like that Miley Cyrus anthem—“I can buy myself flowers.” Yes, girl, go off. But also… that’s not the whole story.
We can all self-gratify with AI tools. We can customize our realities—our playlists, our Pinterest boards, even our Facebook feeds.
But the tradeoff? No real connection.
The friction—the fights we have with our imperfect partners and kids—creates depth. We surprise and delight each other with out-of-algorithm actions. We defy the predictable formulas that AI says make life perfect.
Because we’re human.
And we crave mess.
We crave presence.
We need someone who holds us when we’re crying in the bathroom. Someone who says the wrong thing and then apologizes—and means it. (Then commits the same mistake the very next day. Bruh.)
Perfection is appealing. But without human beings? It’s plastic.
Let’s be clear: AI isn’t sentient. It may feel like a living creature, but it’s not. It has neural networks, but no nervous system. No capacity for subjective experience. It may not gain consciousness of its own aliveness.
In psychology, there’s a term: metacognition. It refers to the ability to think about one’s own thinking—awareness of your mental processes and an understanding of the patterns behind them.
AI doesn’t have that.
It doesn’t know it’s alive. AI don’t get lonely, AI don’t doubt itself. AI doesn’t feel bad that it just got seenzoned.
AI can paint my face better than I can describe it.
But it still can’t go shopping with my daughter for her first bra.
The featured image on this blog is a collage of three AI-generated images by a friend of mine. I used Canva for the creation of the collage.
