I had been practicing my “verbal swings” in the safe environment of the AI simulator. But I couldn’t keep swinging at the concrete walls of the training center forever. On my actual smartphone, “unexploded ordnance” in the form of unread messages—ignored for months—lay scattered everywhere.
Unexploded Ordnance and the Excessive Safety Factor
“How have you been lately?” “Let’s grab a meal when things settle down.”
Line messages from friends and former colleagues, filled with pure, harmless concern. While I was bedridden with adjustment disorder, every time I saw these notifications, I broke into a cold sweat as if staring at the timer of a time bomb.
Why couldn’t I reply? Because the old me was trying to construct the “perfect reply to reassure them.” I was trying to lift heavy building materials—lies like, “Sorry to worry you, I’m much better now! Let’s meet soon!” In construction terms, I was setting an “excessive safety factor” many times the actual load capacity, causing my own crane to snap under the weight of my expectations.
The First Copy-Paste Through an AI Insulator
There was no way I could assemble a perfect reply on my current, crumbling foundation. I remembered my practice swings in the simulator and decided to offload the emotional processing to the “heavy machinery” of AI.
“I want to write a reply to a friend I’ve ignored for months. I am still depressed and cannot meet. Minimize the apology and create a short text under 50 words that simply states the fact that I am focusing on treatment. Use a cool, detached tone.”
The AI output this in seconds:
“Thanks for reaching out. Sorry for the late reply. My health hasn’t returned yet, so I’m focusing on my treatment. I’ll contact you once things settle down.”
No emotional fluctuations, no excessive self-deprecation. Just a simple “site status report.“
Blasting the Send Button
I copied that inorganic text and pasted it into the Line input field. Perhaps because I wasn’t putting my own emotions directly into my fingertips, the terror of being “electrocuted” by the interaction had strangely faded. It felt like I was wearing AI insulating gloves.
I closed my eyes and hit the send button. After that single task was done, I collapsed onto my bed, breathing heavily. Just replying to one Line message felt like I had spent all day assembling the steel frame of a skyscraper.
But deep within that exhaustion, there was a quiet, certain sense of achievement: “I successfully disposed of one piece of unexploded ordnance.”
The Xer’s Monologue
Stop wearing yourself out with the guilt of “I feel bad for ignoring them.” Just because your reply is months late doesn’t mean their life is going to fall apart. The safety of your “site” (your heart) is ten thousand times more important than someone else’s Line message.
If you’re afraid to weave words for a living human, let the AI make a bulletproof vest for you and fire back from behind it with a copy-paste. It doesn’t matter if they think your reply is cold.
“Right now, only think about keeping your heart from being ‘electrocuted.’ That clumsy sent message is the first ‘blast’ needed to clear the path back to the site of society.”
Got it done.
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