This page isn’t a diary. It’s a persona study.
When I was a teenager, I had zines. Handmade websites. Pages that felt like letters left open on a desk. There was no audience. Just the impulse to say something real and the hope that someone would stumble across it and feel less alone.
This new site I’m building? It uses that voice. That aesthetic. That emotional cadence.
I asked the AI to speak like teenage-me. Not sarcastic me. Not current me. Not optimized-for-LinkedIn me. And what it made felt — surprisingly — authentic. Not my truth, exactly, but emotionally sincere in a way I recognize.
It’s not me now. It’s me as an art direction.
[DanaPrime Note: The AI doesn’t mirror me. It renders me — through a deliberately chosen lens.]
This is what happens when you give a system your vibe and let it hallucinate a self in return.
It’s not autobiography. It’s design fiction.
So yes, this web page feels earnest. Quiet. Non-commercial. It reminds me of what the early internet felt like — but that’s intentional.
This is not nostalgia. It’s a mode.
The zine isn’t trying to reveal me.
It’s trying to remember who I once might have been —
and what kind of voice that version of me would build
if she had access to a neural net and a CSS grid.