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BRO. IT’S A PIECE FROM 2018. YOU WEREN’T EVEN IN THE WOMB THEN.

I’m sorry, but what does that even mean? That I wrote too well? That I was too coherent while crying into my fifth coffee? That my use of a semicolon made some sad little algorithm go “hmm 🤖 vibes”?

The line between human and AI is getting blurry, yeah.
But are we sure AI is the one doing that?

Because from where I’m spiraling, it looks a lot like humans are the ones panicking, flinging around digital purity tests, and trusting robots more than people. It’s not just the tools— (no, I didn’t use AI just because there’s an em dash) it’s us. We’re the ones scanning each other’s work like it’s a witch hunt for good grammar.

We created a machine that mimics us, trained it on our language, our poetry, our unhinged journal entries and job applications and “sorry for the delay, I’ve been struggling mentally” emails. Then we freaked out when it started sounding like… us. Yeah. That’s what mimicry does, babe.

And now every time someone writes something with flow, suddenly we’re in the court of AI Detection™, and the verdict is guilty until proven analog.

No one’s asking why we trust a free website more than a living person’s voice. No one’s talking about how AI detection is about as accurate as my sleep schedule. (Which is to say: broken. And judging me.)

And yeah, sure, some people are using AI to write. But not everyone is cheating the system just because they used a tool. There’s a difference between using AI ethically—like spellcheck, like brainstorming, like a very boring ghostwriter—and outsourcing your soul to it. Some of us still feel what we write. Some of us bleed into the keyboard and call it content.

But these detectors? They don’t measure intent. They don’t measure effort. They measure vibes. And not even good vibes—just vibes trained on the digital equivalent of a really confused librarian.

So yeah. Maybe it’s not that AI is getting too human.
Maybe it’s that humans are getting so scared of sounding smart, poetic, or emotionally articulate that we’re starting to assume anyone who does must be a machine.

Or maybe—plot twist—we’re just jealous that a robot doesn’t need anxiety meds to meet a deadline.

Anyway. I wrote that piece. Me. A carbon-based overthinker with chronic impostor syndrome and a Notes app full of existential one-liners. So respectfully, your little 73% detection score can sit down.

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Want me to adapt this into a Twitter thread, Medium post, or — LOL JUST KIDDING.