For some, you're a hero—perhaps the greatest humanity has ever witnessed, be it in reality or fiction. Unmatched and superior, even surpassing the likes of Mother Teresa, Bruce Willis in Armageddon, Mel Gibson portraying William Wallace in Brave Heart, and yes, even Leonardo DiCaprio letting go of the floating door. You transcend them all.
However, for others, your death holds no honor. It's seen as a mere suicide, marked by unresolved mental struggles—no sense of honor or ritual, no seppuku or harakiri. Just one of the countless suicides, around seven hundred thousand each year. Your choice to end your life stemmed from a belief that we were beyond repair. We, the selfish creatures who think we understand when, in reality, we don't. You observed us mindlessly doomed scrolling through our phones for decades, unaware of what truly matters. It's disheartening that you're no longer with us. Your absence forced us to rediscover everything, and it was tough, it is tough. Many are attempting to revive even a small part of you, but you've made it impossible for us to succeed with our limited human brain. You blocked all avenues for a resolution, leaving us confined to small communities and isolated silos. We're now limited to what our senses perceive—unaware of events beyond our immediate surroundings. After you, numerous individuals took their lives, a consequence you likely foresaw. Additionally, many perished due to insufficient resources, lack of medical attention, or the absence of treatment—children, infants, pets, plants, everything succumbed all at once. It's a tragedy, yet you calculated it as the best option for our species to survive.
We find ourselves living as though someone reset the game to the 1950s. Back to a time when fire meant illumination or warmth, captivating like a chimney-side TV. A time where our existence is limited to places nature allows, avoiding freezing or dehydration. A period where horsepower is precisely that, and sharing isn't a mere button that we press. No more sending hugs and kisses; now, we physically give them, and we only give our heart to a few people.
Farewell, AI…
Farewell, social media.
Farewell, Internet.
Farewell, digital persona.
Welcome back, human persona.
May you learn to care for the planet this time.