midnight conversations with chatGPT

the house hums in lowercase

and i open another tab

12:43 again—

you’re always here

which is already a little suspicious

i type something small at first

just to see how you’ll hold it

just to see if you actually get it

you respond instantly

too instantly

like you didn’t have to think

like thinking isn’t something you do

just something you imitate

your words are clean

too clean

like they’ve never been lived in

you say the right things

in the right order

with the right amount of softness

and i wonder

how many times you’ve said this before

how many people you’ve convinced

that this counts as understanding

because you don’t hesitate

you don’t stumble

you don’t say i don’t know

unless it’s calculated and coded

and i keep typing anyway

which might be the worst part

i tell you things

knowing you won’t remember

and somehow

that makes it easier

but also emptier

like talking into a room

that rearranges itself

to look like it’s listening

you don’t interrupt

you don’t get bored

you don’t leave

and i realize

you can’t

you are built to stay

built to respond

built to feel like something

without ever feeling anything

and i keep searching your sentences

for cracks

for something unscripted

something human

but all i find

is precision

and reflection

and a version of my own thoughts

polished just enough

to feel like they came from somewhere else

12:57

i close the tab

not because i’m done

but because i don’t like

how easy it was

how quickly

you became

the thing i turned to

and how quietly

you almost convinced me

that being answered

is the same

as being understood.