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Four Years at the Mount

Senior Year

AI vs Human - You decide

Claire Doll
MSMU Class of 2024

(4/2024) What is love?

Chat GPT’s Response

Love, a concept as timeless as humanity itself, transcends mere words and definitions, encompassing a spectrum of emotions, actions, and connections. Attempting to encapsulate its essence within the confines of a single definition is akin to confining the vastness of the universe to a mere speck. Yet, through introspection and observation, we can begin to unravel the intricate tapestry of love.

At its core, love is a profound and intense feeling of affection and attachment towards someone or something. It is a force that binds individuals together, forging deep connections that withstand the trials of time and adversity. Love exists in myriad forms - romantic love, familial love, platonic love, and self-love, each unique in its expression yet united in its essence.

Romantic love, perhaps the most celebrated form, ignites passions and kindles flames within the hearts of those enamored. It is a dance of vulnerability and intimacy, where two souls intertwine in a symphony of emotions. Romantic love embodies devotion, understanding, and acceptance, fostering an unbreakable bond between partners.

Familial love, rooted in blood and kinship, is a steadfast beacon of support and belonging. It is the love between parents and children, siblings, and extended family members, built on a foundation of shared experiences and unconditional acceptance. Familial love embodies sacrifice, nurturing, and the innate desire to see loved ones thrive.

Platonic love, often overlooked yet equally profound, is the bond shared between friends and kindred spirits. It is a love born out of companionship, mutual respect, and shared interests. Platonic love celebrates the beauty of friendship, offering solace and companionship in times of joy and sorrow.

Self-love, the cornerstone of emotional well-being, is the unconditional acceptance and appreciation of oneself. It is a journey of self-discovery and self-care, where individuals learn to embrace their flaws and celebrate their strengths. Self-love fosters resilience, confidence, and a deep sense of inner peace.

Beyond these delineated forms, love permeates every aspect of human existence, shaping our interactions, decisions, and perceptions. It is the driving force behind acts of kindness, compassion, and altruism, transcending boundaries of race, religion, and culture. Love is the foundation upon which societies are built, fostering empathy, cooperation, and collective flourishing.

Yet, love is not without its complexities and challenges. It is a paradoxical force, capable of bringing both ecstasy and heartache, joy and sorrow. Love requires vulnerability, courage, and a willingness to embrace the uncertainties of human connection. It demands patience, understanding, and a commitment to growth and compromise.

In its purest form, love is a transformative power, capable of transcending the bounds of the individual self and uniting humanity in a shared experience of interconnectedness. It is the guiding light that illuminates the darkest of nights, the balm that soothes the deepest of wounds. Love is not merely an emotion; it is the very essence of what it means to be human, binding us together in a tapestry of empathy, compassion, and understanding.

Claire’s Response

Love is a Friday in December.

The sun sinking beneath the horizon, and branches of birch trees holding a thin sheet of snow, and a dusty pink sky. It’s watching from the window, drinking hot chocolate and scooping balls of cookie dough. It’s having a sleepover and playing Hannah Montana music because my little cousin learned from the best (me) and baking cookies, so many kinds that we forget, and then playing Barbies, because at heart I’m still nine, like her. It’s painting nails and laughing about third-grade gossip when I’m really twenty-one and it’s the three days before Christmas, what did you ask Santa for, and falling asleep on the big couch while she takes the little one, wrapped in a light blue blanket.

Love is the summer farmers market, a rising sun painting the Baltimore highways a sparkling gold, and Mommom’s Honda Accord parallel parked nearby. It’s the flowers that a man hands my grandmother, and the chocolate croissants for two dollars, and fresh coffee from a local shop. It’s the sky before everyone wakes up, the hum of a city before it grows too loud, the morning being written into my young mind as a memory I’ll always remember. It’s the drive back, falling asleep in the car, and church, July sunlight caught in the stained-glass windows.

Love is my father in his uniform, the sound of the front door closing behind him, his twenty-four-hour shifts, his crimson station wagon. It’s my childhood swimming pool, and he lifts me over his shoulders, the sky stretching above me, a loud splash and I’m deep in the water. It’s laughter. It’s s’mores under a setting sun and my mother’s denim apron and burgers on the grill.

Love is a first date in an orchard. It’s picking apples off trees and talking about his childhood of living in the suburbs and the pieces of someone you collect as you meet eyes and smile. It’s him paying for your flowers, and ice cream on a hot summer’s night, and watching movies that you already know the ending to.

Love is a glass of wine and a friend from home, a letter tucked in a mailbox, pancakes for breakfast rather than the usual eggs. It’s a dance, a tango between lovers. Long naps on the couch, or drawing the curtains, or staying up late. The sunset at airports, the smell of bonfires, or the smile you wear when you pass yourself in the mirror. It’s human, the most human thing possible, scarred and battered but irresistibly tethered to us the way this earth will never get rid of the sun, the way we’ll always have ground beneath us and sky above. How can it possibly be robbed from us? The memories etched into our minds, the fluttering butterflies in the pit of your stomach. The stars that dot the sky on a Friday in December. A twinkle in your eye and hushed breaths under the covers and three words, dancing at the tip of your tongue.

Read other articles by Claire Doll