The Untamable Spark: What AI and Medication Still Can’t Silence in Me
I pick up my pen, something with dark ink, and begin to write.
My handwriting is loose and big, and often indecipherable by people other than me who try to read it. It fills up the page frantically, similar to how back when I was manic, words pushed and tumbled from my lips. There’s this part of me, creativity, that AI, that medication, can’t stifle. I won’t let it.
Virginia Woolf — the original exalted madwoman — also wrote her first drafts by hand. According to Ellen Gutoskey of Mental Floss, Woolf wrote with purple pen, and I imagine that after her writing sessions, her hands were covered in purple ink.
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