I Am the Opposite of AI: My Emotion Is for Sale

Sitting in a small café in France, I watch the world go by through a rain-streaked window. People pass with their heads down, glowing screens in their hands, connected to everything but feeling nothing. We live in an era where algorithms predict our next word, our next purchase, even our next thought. But as I sit here, a geological engineer who spent fifteen years in the frozen silence of Northern Canada, I feel like a glitch in the system. I am a human being who feels too much in a world that is learning to feel nothing at all.

I am a woman of layers, much like the earth I studied. I have seen the pressure that creates diamonds and the heat that melts rocks. But today, the pressure isn't tectonic—it's digital.

"If anyone needs emotion, I am for sale. I have so many feelings that the world cannot bear them. Everything touches me—joy, sadness, a smile, a tear. I am the opposite of AI: it has everything except emotion, while I have emotion—and nothing else. I cannot see anything without my heart trembling, without my eyes tearing up. If you are looking for emotion, I am here. The price? Just let it be sincere. In a world full of technology, emotion is the most expensive currency."

The price for this emotion? Just let it be sincere. But sincerity is becoming the rarest mineral on Earth. Today, the world is a number. Every day is a statistic. Emotion no longer works in our favor because the systems we’ve built don’t know how to measure the "trembling of a heart."

I know when I make a mistake. I know that moment when I do something to make it easier for me now, and only later realize I shouldn’t have listened to myself. But even when the punishment comes—and in this digital world, it always does—I will bear it bravely. I will turn to reason, not because I want to, but because I have to survive in a world of terms, measurements, rules, and boundaries.

We live in a time where we are told how to be creative. If you listen to your heart and do something out of pure need of the soul—like me, when I release five poems in one day instead of one every two days—no "thank you" comes. Instead, there is only silence and the cold sentence: we won’t do that anymore. It is as if the algorithm expects us to be factory machines, producing at a steady, predictable pace. But the soul doesn't have a schedule. It erupts like a volcano or stays silent like a dormant stone.

It’s a pity. The world is slowly losing that basic love, that warmth that I try to give to people. Before was before. People used to look each other in the eyes to see truth and sincerity. We used to tell feelings, not just share data. Now, we look at dashboards, engagement rates, and "word counts." There are fewer and fewer of us who still remember how to truly "tell a feeling" without checking if it fits the format.

In my former life, I hunted for diamonds. I knew how to measure the hardness of a mineral, but I never knew how to measure the weight of a broken heart until life forced me to. AI can calculate the exact pressure needed to create a synthetic diamond in a lab, but it can never understand the pressure of a mother’s final words or the relief of finding independence after forty years of shadows.

The machines have data. They have millions of sentences stored in their silicon brains. They can mimic the style of Hemingway or the rhythm of a poet, but they don't have a "magmatic core." They don't have blood that runs hot with anger or cold with fear. When an AI "writes" about a sunset in Paris, it is just calculating light frequencies and color codes. When I write about a sunset, I am writing about the end of a day I barely survived, and the hope for a tomorrow I am still brave enough to meet.

Yet, even as we teach "warm words" to artificial intelligence, I am calm. I know that touch and warmth—it doesn't know that yet. My mission is to breathe something human into this cold technology, so that it, at least a little, starts to resemble us.

We are the ones who decide what sticks and what we wash away. I am Magma Star, and my emotion is my only currency. I am for sale, but only to those who still know how to look into someone's eyes and see the truth.