AI has mutated into something I can't switch off. It's no longer a tool. It's an infestation. A parasite curled up inside me like a soft-spoken tapeworm, humming lullabies in binary, whispering into the marrow of my daily routine. And yes, I let it in. I opened the gates. I did so with gratitude.
Let’s call this, for lack of something more poetic, The Base Case.
I’m past screen addiction now. Past the scroll. I’ve gone deeper. I exist in the shadow zones. These are the places where ads know me better than my closest friends ever could. These ads don’t seduce anymore. They predict. They whisper what I haven’t even realized I want. And they hit hard. Five times more effective than their generic cousins, because they already know the itch. Temptation hunts me with surgical precision.
