A business of ferrets

the thing about art is that sometimes you'll be moved to tears by stuff that is not very good

AI slop prompters will never feel the exhilaration of drawing fanatically. Time becomes irrelevant. Your body morphs into just a device for devotion. You are devotion. Never blinking. Your heart beat might as well have never began, because you have become a machine for craft. You are every person before you that has ever touched pencil to paper. Your blood sings as you become a singularity. Never blinking. Never breathing. Never hearing. Eyes on paper, hand moving as if pushed and pulled by an unknown force. They will never understand the madness you feel when you enter a state where you do not starve, ache, or think. The moment you snap out of that haze, your hands covered in graphite and your stomach clawing at your insides for sustenance, that's the closest thing to divinity I have ever felt. I chase it even when my body deteriorates. I understand the weakness of my flesh and it does not deter me

did chatgpt write that response for you too