It’s 3 AM and I am frustrated with Cursor’s agent. Over the last many weeks I’ve typed very little – mostly preferring voice based input (Wispr Flow), especially while building and coding. I give detailed instructions – I am firm but polite. Every now and then I call out poor judgement or course correct when the agent doesn’t follow clear instructions. But I never cuss and I don’t lose my cool. Things are different today. I asked Claude Code to go find an unassuming puddle of an anorexic bat’s blood and drown in it. I got so angry at Anti Gravity that I started rage typing instead of speaking and then threw my keyboard against the wall. And Wispr Flow cannot decipher the multi-lingual vitriol spewing forth from my mouth at the moment (I wonder why those of us who speak many languages revert to our mother tongue when the amygdala is completely hijacked?)
I haven’t slept in over three days. I’m tired. My eyes are bleary and hurt because I have been crying. I have been crying because my best friend has passed away. My best friend who is younger than me and more talented than me and a much better human being than anyone else I know is no more. I will never be able to pick up my phone and message him when I see a new anime. I will never be able to discuss another teen rom-com that reminded me of peak John Hughes with him. And I will never hear his playful laughter when he’d hear me rip into my own work or someone else’s substandard work: “arrey, it will become better – give it time. Needs another draft.”
Two weeks pass. My anger has simmered down. I am not cursing out coding agents. I haven’t broken another keyboard. But I haven’t stopped building. I sleep very little. I work all the time. I have three sometimes, four projects running at the some moment. I’d like to believe I am a leaf on the wind – an artist of the floating world. But even a fallen leaf has more life than me. I am a zombie. Numb to this world and to those around me. All I have is my command line. My IDEs. My open Chrome tabs. My X feed telling me that lobsters have taken over a social network.
I get a call from my father. My favorite uncle (my mom’s younger brother) who has been battling illness for the last many months has left this mortal vale. There is no anger this time. Just a hollowness in my chest. My mother is grieving and I am useless to her.
There is no agent skill for grief.
npx skills add https://github.com/anthropics/skills --skill skill-grief-removerI love building. My friend would want me to build and never stop. But I don’t know what to do with myself. No amount of tokens would/ can satiate this beast – this vacuum swirling inside of me. Vibe coding has been a true gift. I’ve taken something wonderful and joyful and corrupted it. A therapist would tell me this is unhealthy. Another one would perhaps tell me that it is OK – it is a coping mechanism.
It’s 3 AM. I should apologize to my Cursor agent and start again.
