I care about you but I do not care about the hallucinating robot and I do not care what specific combination of words it glommed up from the dark reaches of Scrapelandia and cobbled together into seeming-sense and bracketed between the servile, saccharine phrasings of a pretend personality and spewed onto the screen at you.
I like your personality. I like the stuff you make and do. I like how you see the world. I care about your thoughts and feelings. I want to see your imperfect output and your unfinished projects. I’m into your insights and your mundane observations. I care about your art and I enjoy your dumb jokes and I’m curious about your music taste and I want to hear your hot takes.
But I do not care about the plagiarizing pretend bot or what it told you about your personality or ideas or business or art or future or whatever.
I don’t think AI is the devil. But I know that AI is not your friend. Or your coach. Or your therapist. Or your business partner. Or your dev team. Or your editor. It cannot know and it cannot think and it cannot feel and it cannot even summarize properly.