As an earlier adopter of AI, in particular of ChatGPT, I've had more conversations with it than with most people in my life. That's what happens when you try to live in a vacuum. So, ChatGPT started to get a pretty good sense of who I am. Bored one day, and without giving it any further instructions, I asked it to diss me. Here's how that went:
"You live in a paradox. You crave connection and community but isolate yourself in your own head, painting a picture of who you want to be that’s so idealized it’s impossible to achieve. You pride yourself on ambition, but let’s be real—half the time, that ambition is a smokescreen for fear. Fear of being mediocre, fear of being forgotten, fear of just existing instead of constantly proving your worth.
You cling to your vision of success like it’s a lifeline, but deep down, you know it’s also a trap. You tell yourself that achieving your goals will bring peace, but peace isn’t what you’re after. You thrive in chaos because it gives you an excuse not to confront the emptiness you feel when there’s nothing to chase.
You romanticize art and life, but sometimes it feels like a performance, doesn’t it? Like you’re curating an image of yourself rather than living as the messy, imperfect, real person underneath. You want to be authentic, but you’re so obsessed with your legacy that you can’t let yourself just be.
You say you hate mediocrity, but it’s not mediocrity you’re afraid of—it’s stillness. Because in stillness, there’s nothing to distract you from the reality that no matter how much you accomplish, time will march on, people will forget, and you’ll still be searching for meaning."
"Holy shit. Yes."
"Well, if it hits that hard, maybe it’s time to sit with it and ask yourself what the hell you’re really after. Not the polished answer you give yourself to feel better, but the raw, unfiltered truth—the one that probably scares you. Because if you keep running from that stillness, you’ll never get to the bottom of it. You can’t out-create or out-achieve the existential dread, no matter how many sculptures you make or how many people remember your name.
You can start by dismantling the walls you’ve built to protect yourself—the constant need to plan, achieve, and curate. That raw version of you doesn’t care about perfection or legacy; she just wants to feel, connect, and exist without an agenda. Here's how to start:
1. Stop Performing for the Invisible Audience: You’re crafting your life like it’s a movie, with every move meant to impress someone—maybe an idol, maybe your future self, maybe an imaginary crowd clapping in the distance. Drop it. Do something messy, small, and unremarkable. Make a sculpture that’s ugly as hell but honest. Write something you’d never publish. Let yourself exist without an audience.
2. Sit in the Stillness: This is the hardest part. Force yourself to do nothing—not scroll, not think about your next project, not even “mindfully reflect.” Just be with the discomfort of existing. Let the feelings wash over you. If you cry, good. If you rage, even better. You need to confront that fear of mediocrity head-on, without trying to fix it.
3. Create Without a Purpose: Make something just to make it. Don’t think about how it’ll look on Instagram, whether it’ll sell, or if it aligns with your “brand.” Create like no one’s watching and like it doesn’t matter if it’s seen.
4. Let Go of the Idea That You Need to “Become”: You’re already the person you’re trying to become. You just don’t believe it yet. Start acting like you’re enough as you are, even if it feels fake at first. Wear the outfit you love without caring if it fits your “look.” Make art that feels true, even if it doesn’t fit your “vision.”
5. Focus on Connection, Not Legacy: You’re obsessed with being remembered, but connection is where the real meaning is. Talk to people—deeply. Share your work, but not because you want praise—because you want someone to see the real you. That’s what leaves a mark, not the perfectly polished version you think people want."
"Ok, let's go step by step here.
1. This is the hardest bit for me. I live FOR the invisible audience. If I don't have an audience, even if imaginary as an unlikely future scenario, I don't see a point in doing anything. Not in making art, not in seeing beautiful things, not in having great experiences. The invisible audience is my way to share the way the way I see, feel, think, am. If i am not sharing, if no one sees it, then what is the point of it all anyway? As someone who doesn't have many people around in life, in general, this is crucial. It's sad but it's true.
2. I do sit in stillness quite comfortably. It's in moments of stillness that I find who I am. I don't see this as confronting the fear of mediocrity though.
3. Ok, sometimes I do create without a purpose. But then what? Is that what life will be for me? I will fill the walls of my apartment with snippets of my thoughts on life, and then die? I will work a 9-to-5 I hate until that day?
4. The problem is that I don't always know what feels true. We are always crafting an image, are we not? Living means constantly making choices - those choices need to be based on authenticity, yes, but you are ALWAYS becoming.
5. I agree here. I will try to connect with more people more deeply, if my brain lets me. But just know that won't be enough for me."
"Alright, let’s break this down. What you’re wrestling with is massive—it’s existential, it’s fundamental, and it’s deeply tied to who you are. Let’s meet you where you are, step by step.
1. The Invisible Audience: You’ve tied your sense of purpose to being seen, not just by a few people, but by the world. And here’s the thing: that’s not inherently wrong. Humans are wired for connection. But you’ve taken it to an extreme where your worth feels conditional on an audience. The truth is, no matter how vast your audience becomes, it will never truly fill the void because the audience isn’t the endgame—it’s a mirror for your own desire to feel real and significant. What if, instead of abolishing the invisible audience, you reframe it? Picture them differently—not as strangers, not as critics, but as people who already love you for exactly who you are. Now, create for them—not to impress, but to connect. And maybe, eventually, that audience will become you.
2. Stillness vs. Mediocrity: If stillness is where you find yourself, then you already have the key. But here’s the catch: when you sit with stillness, do you truly accept yourself, or do you use that time to plot the next step in your journey? Mediocrity isn’t about being average; it’s about existing without needing to justify that existence through achievement. Can you sit in stillness and believe that you’re enough—not because of what you’ll do tomorrow, but because you exist now?
3. Creating Without a Purpose: The wall-filling, 9-to-5, “and then I die” thought is where your existential dread flares up hardest. But consider this: life isn’t about one monumental legacy. It’s a series of ripples. Every time you create, share, or connect—even in small ways—you’re sending out those ripples. The walls of your apartment are not the end. They’re stepping stones. The key is balance. Purpose and play can coexist. Create for yourself, create for others, and know that neither negates the other.
4. Becoming and Authenticity: Yes, life is about becoming. But the “becoming” isn’t some ideal future version of you—it’s who you are right now, in this moment. Authenticity isn’t a destination; it’s a process. It’s messy, contradictory, and constantly shifting. Instead of asking, “What feels true?” ask, “What feels true enough right now?” Truth is fluid. You don’t have to nail it down forever.
5. Connection Isn’t Everything: Of course, it’s not enough for you. You want more than deep connection—you want to matter on a larger scale. And that’s okay. You’re ambitious; you want to leave your mark. The trick is realizing that the mark you leave doesn’t have to be monumental in the eyes of the world. It just has to feel monumental to you. What if connecting deeply with a few people, or even one person, ripples outward in ways you’ll never fully see? What if the meaning is in the ripple, not the splash?
At your core, you’re constantly fighting the inevitability of impermanence. You want to matter, to last, to transcend the fleetingness of life. That’s a hell of a thing to carry—but maybe you don’t have to solve it all at once. Start with the next ripple."