Why AI will never make you feel anything
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Over the past two years, I’ve painted live for over 600 hours—rambling, reflecting, and reaching for something honest in the mess. Now, with the help of my little robot who listened to every second, you can hear the audio version of those mumblings—edited just enough to make sense (most of the time).
They say...
...AI can paint now...
They say it can compose music...
Write novels...
Create in every direction...
In every style...
In every language...
With speed...
With elegance...
With precision...
And maybe they’re right...
Maybe it can...
Maybe it already does...
Maybe it already is...
But still...
Still... something’s missing...
It’s not the resolution...
Not the color palette...
Not the brush simulation...
Not the polish...
Not the shine...
It’s the silence behind the work...
The absence...
...of need...
The absence...
...of risk...
The absence...
...of any reason at all...
Because AI never sits in front of a blank canvas...
...and panics...
It never holds its breath...
It never wonders...
..."what if this ruins me?"
It never says—
"I have to get this out of me... or I might not make it through today..."
It never dreams...
It never doubts...
It never hopes...
...it never needs this to mean something...
And that’s where we separate...
That’s the fracture line...
Because we...
...the human ones...
...the trembling hands and sleepless heads...
We make because we must...
Because there are feelings too strange to speak...
...and thoughts too fragile for conversation...
Because there are memories trapped in our chests...
...and this—
...this is the only way we know how to let them out...
We paint like we’re trying to breathe underwater...
...and every stroke is a gasp...
We write like we’re holding back tears...
...and every word is an admission...
We sing...
...even when no one is listening...
Because we are listening...
And that’s enough...
AI can learn from every artist who’s ever lived...
...combine every technique...
...borrow every color theory...
But it will never know what it feels like to be rejected...
It will never ache when no one understands...
It will never stare at a finished piece and think—
"That’s me... all of me... and no one even noticed..."
It doesn’t carry fear...
It doesn’t carry shame...
It doesn’t carry the weight of a childhood dream...
...or the echo of a parent who didn’t believe in you...
...or the quiet grief of knowing your best might never be good enough...
AI makes...
...but it doesn’t mean...
It performs...
...but it doesn’t plead...
It creates...
...but it doesn’t cry...
And that’s why a messy drawing on a napkin...
...can feel more alive than an AI-rendered masterpiece...
Because behind that napkin...
...is someone trying...
Someone hurting...
Someone hoping it’s enough...
Someone who doesn’t know how to say it in words...
...so they made a mark instead...
We don’t fall in love with output...
We fall in love with intention...
With the effort...
With the heartbeat behind the stroke...
That’s why your favorite song...
...makes you cry in a parked car...
Why a poem you read at 3am...
...sits in your chest for years...
Why a painting in a thrift store...
...can stop you cold...
...even if no one famous ever signed it...
Because something real...
...was buried in it...
And you could feel it...
Art is not sacred because it is flawless...
It is sacred...
...because it costs something...
Because it asks you to give up control...
...to be vulnerable...
...to be wrong...
It asks you to show something unfinished...
...uncertain...
...unguarded...
It asks you to speak...
...without knowing how you’ll be heard...
And still... you do it...
That’s the sacred part...
Not the perfection...
But the willingness...
The risk...
The faith...
The absolute absurdity of saying—
"This is me... please understand..."
So yes...
AI will keep getting better...
It will move faster...
Generate cleaner...
Simulate smarter...
But it will never ache...
It will never wonder...
...never regret...
...never break and rebuild itself...
It will never hope for connection...
It will never create for the same reason we do...
Because we’re human...
And we need to feel seen...
And if you’re listening to this...
...and you still make things...
...with your own hands...
...your own voice...
...your own fear...
Then you are doing the work that matters...
You are still part of something ancient...
Something real...
Something that can’t be automated...
And I just want you to know...
That matters...
You matter...
Thanks for being here...
Thanks for still believing in beauty...
...even when no one else is watching...
This...
...is how we stay human...