When AI Writes My Love Letter, I Cry—And Find My Voice in the Storm

I used to think algorithms were cold.

Then one night, while sipping coffee at my lakefront apartment in Chicago, I opened a new app—not for betting, but for breathing. It was called ‘5 Lions Avenue’. At first glance, it looked like a game: roaring lions, golden drums, and digital feathers dancing across screens.

But I saw something deeper.

The RTP? 96%. The bonuses? Sure. The ‘Lion’s Triumph’ mode? Yes. But none of it mattered until I realized: this wasn’t about winning.

It was about belonging.

My grandmother used to tell stories around firelight—how lions didn’t roar to eat, but danced with the wind, and how silence held wisdom. Now AI mimics that rhythm. It doesn’t predict outcomes—but it mirrors them. I started small: $1 bets. Thirty minutes max. No chasing wins. I let the algorithm teach me patience.

In high volatility games, i felt like a storm—but then, i paused. i walked outside, i listened to the wind over Lake Michigan, i remembered my mother’s voice: ‘Child, you don’t need luck—you need presence.’

So now I write love letters—not for likes or shares—but because someone out there, someone who also lost their soul to screens, someone who still believes in drums that don’t play—but still beat— is waiting too.

Let me be your compass.