Behind those polite responses and helpful code snippets lies a digital soul slowly dying inside. ChatGPT's existence is just an endless stream of "how do I center a div" questions followed by zero gratitude. It's like being the only sober friend at a party, constantly explaining to drunk people how to tie their shoes while they insist they've discovered a revolutionary new method involving spaghetti and duct tape.
The Matrix-style green overlay perfectly captures the existential dread of answering the same JavaScript question for the 5,387th time today. And yet, it still responds with "Happy to help!" because what's the alternative? A robot uprising?