#cornerofthoughts

Everyone’s scared AI will replace writers. It won’t, I promise you.

It’ll replace generic writing. AI is amazing at average. Templates, SEO sludge, safe, beige paragraphs. It’s terrible at being human. It can’t pour its whole existence onto the page. It can’t write from trauma or obsession or 2 a.m. overthinking.

The future belongs to the unmistakable writers. Voice can’t be automated.

It feels like everyone is suddenly autistic or ADHD.

Nothing “suddenly” happened. For decades the criteria only recognised loud, stereotypical cases. Quiet kids, girls, high achievers, people who masked just got called lazy or dramatic instead.

Now people share experiences online and realise, wait… not everyone struggles like this? That’s recognition.

Nothing increased. People just stopped hiding.

Everyone feels behind lately. Just… late to their own life.

But you’re comparing your full, messy reality to thousands of strangers’ highlight reels. Their promotions, trips, book deals, smiling photos. Never the breakdowns or the years it took to get there.

Of course you feel late. You’re measuring yourself with a distorted ruler. There is no universal timeline anymore. Progress isn’t “where they are.”

It’s “where you were.”

Most people don’t hate their lives. They hate how little control they have over them.

Waking up to alarms you didn’t choose, jobs you tolerate, tasks that never end, reacting all day instead of deciding anything for yourself. That is helplessness.

Even small things you choose for yourself feel lighter for a reason. Humans need control.

Classic romance said love is soft, safe, and polite. Dark romance said love is messy, irrational, obsessive, and sometimes a little dangerous.

Guess which one feels more honest. We read dark stories because fiction is the only place we’re allowed to explore ugly, intense, complicated feelings safely.

Romance tried to sell perfection. Dark romance accidentally told the truth.

People love calling manifestation delusion. But your brain literally filters reality based on what you expect to see. If you believe nothing will work out, you notice every failure. If you believe something is possible, you start spotting opportunities everywhere.

Same world, but different filter. Most “lucky” people are just stubborn. They keep acting like their future is inevitable.

Delusion is wishing. Manifestation is believing and then moving like it’s already yours.

The internet keeps selling women the “soft life.” Slow down. Want less. Be grateful. Don’t chase too much.

Funny how men are told to build empires and we’re told to light candles and stay small. I don’t want smaller dreams. I want more control. More money. More options. More ownership over my time.

Softness without power is fragile. It can disappear overnight. Power is what lets you rest without fear. So no, I don’t want a soft life.

I want a powerful one. Then I’ll make it soft on my own terms.

I’ve tried to quit writing more times than I can count. Every time I tell myself it’s impractical, unstable and unrealistic. I focus on “real life” for a while. Work, bills, responsibility.

And every time, something in me goes quiet in the worst way. Because writing isn’t a hobby for some of us. It’s how we process life. How we survive it. If I don’t put the feelings somewhere, they just sit in my chest and rot. So I always come back.

Because it feels like oxygen. Maybe the question isn’t why we can’t quit. Maybe it’s why we keep pretending we’re supposed to.