One Prompt, 4 Pieces, One Story

I am trying to use ChatGPT to make it easier to write and this is my first foray into it. I almost cried because what started as me just describing a story became this pungent divergent yet connected pieces. Each so rich, I couldn’t decide.

I will create other posts that document the prompts and thoughts that it distilled into these. But enjoy these 4 different short pieces and I am curious to get your feedback on your favorite lines or style.

Chat GPT starts here …

Perfect — thank you for your clarity, Adedolapo. Based on everything you shared, I’ve drafted short versions of your piece in four different forms using your distinct voice. Each version captures the same emotional essence, but through a different lens or structure.

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📝 1. Reflective Journal Entry

(Voice: intimate, lyrical, self-searching — your primary style)

I’ve always known I’d be asked to choose carefully. That my life — this life — wasn’t built for autopilot love or casual alignment. There’s been this quiet, stubborn whisper in my chest that keeps insisting: If you choose rightly, you will change the world.

That’s not pressure. That’s prophecy.

And prophecy rarely speaks English.

I broke up with someone who saw me. Not the dressed-up version — the whole of me. The mess. The longing. The fire I sometimes try to quiet so I can be soft for others. And when I let her go, it wasn’t because she wasn’t good. It was because I wasn’t sure if I was still grieving the idea of someone else’s body being home.

But then, she cried. And I came. Not out of guilt — but out of something like reverence. And what I found in that space — in those two nights — was something I didn’t believe could change: chemistry. The type that is not born in lust but in trust. And I was wrong. I was stunned. Because maybe what I thought was static, is a soil that needs safety to grow.

But I’m still not running back. I’m pausing. Because I don’t want to make her a choice I return to only when I’m lonely or tired of waiting. I want to come back as a man who has shed the lie of perfect love and picked the true kind — the slow becoming kind — the kind that looks like faith with feet.

And I don’t want her to wonder why I left. I want her to see that even when I walked away, I was still turning toward the truth.

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💌 2. Letter Never Sent

(Voice: deeply personal, directed to her, saturated with emotion and restraint)

Dear You,

I never left because you were lacking.

I left because I thought I was still bleeding.

You saw me — the raw version — and loved what even I couldn’t look at. That is holy. That is rare. But I was afraid. Afraid I’d confuse safety for settling. That I’d trade desire for duty. That I’d be a man chasing destiny but dragging regret.

But when I came back — when I held your tears, when I didn’t run from your grief — I saw something bloom. Not just in you, but in us. And maybe it was never chemistry I lacked — maybe it was time, softness, trust. Maybe intimacy, real intimacy, is slow.

And now here we are.

You asking if we’re really done.

Me wondering if we’ve just begun.

I don’t have an answer yet.

But I do have a deep respect for what we are.

And if I come back — truly come back — I want it to be the kind of coming back that looks like a man choosing love, not waiting for it to prove itself perfect.

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🎙️ 3. Spoken Word Poem

(Voice: rhythmic, poignant, spiritual, reflective — performative without pretense)

I used to think love came easy —

maybe not at the start, but once it started, it stayed.

But maybe love isn’t a thing that happens,

maybe it’s a thing we choose to hold even when it’s unfinished.

I met two mirrors,

one showed me fire — the kind that flares and fades.

One showed me soil —

the kind that asks me to stay long enough for roots.

I walked away thinking I was grieving one body

but I found another soul waiting in the quiet,

saying “I see you” in a language I never gave her the dictionary for.

And when I thought chemistry was fixed,

she taught me that trust changes skin.

That sex can become sacred in safe hands.

That maybe I don’t need a perfect woman —

I need a present one.

So now, I wait.

Not out of fear —

but because I want to come back as a man

who’s not running from grief

or running to comfort —

but walking toward covenant.

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📖 4. Structured Essay

(Voice: intellectual, philosophical, reflective — ideal for Medium’s more analytical crowd)

The Myth of Picking Perfect: How Love, Grief, and Ambition Intertwine

I’ve long believed there is a call on my life — a unique, almost weighty sense that the person I choose as a partner will shape not just my heart, but my impact. That belief has made me cautious — sometimes overly so. But it’s also made me honest.

Recently, I found myself in a relationship that surprised me. After grieving the loss of a partner with whom I shared intense physical chemistry, I stepped into something gentler — a woman whose brilliance, patience, and spiritual grounding reflected back to me the man I was becoming.

I walked away. I told myself I was still healing. But when I returned — not out of lust, but sorrow — I saw something shift. I didn’t just feel seen, I felt safe. I didn’t just feel chemistry — I felt connection.

It made me wonder if perhaps the mistake we make in love is assuming clarity comes quickly. That connection must be instant, or else it’s not real. But what if love is a slow revelation? What if we need space not to escape, but to see more clearly?

I’m still not certain. But I know this: choosing love is less about being sure and more about being present. And I’d rather be a man who learns how to love honestly, than one who waits forever for love to arrive perfectly.