A researcher at , a nonprofit focused on human connection in the age of AI, Lee asked: Why not?

In a word, the girl said: Instagram.

“If you try to dance at prom, you’re going to look stupid at some point,” Lee recalled her saying. Eventually someone will pull out a phone and you’ll end up on someone’s feed, seen by “the entire school” with mortifying results. Better just to play it safe. 

“Everybody just goes to prom to look cute,” the girl explained, “take a picture for the ‘gram, eat and leave.”

For Lee, who has spent years studying human belonging, that exchange unlocked an important, if unspoken, part of why AI holds such appeal. “We’ve created this set of conditions where young people don’t feel like they have permission to be their real, unfiltered selves,” she said in an interview. So they turn to AI, which is programmed to affirm them at every step.

from Lee and her colleagues offer this insight among others, painting a detailed portrait of how young people use AI and why. They surveyed 2,383 people ages 13 to 24 across the U.S. and found that for nearly half of them, AI has already reshaped their relationships in ways that are largely flying under the radar of parents, teachers and policymakers.

Among the findings:

• Just 15% of young people are in relationships with “personified AI” characters — but for about 45%, AI is already reshaping their real-life relationships;
• 53% of young people say they set clear boundaries with AI, using it alongside — not instead of — human support;
• 61% say parents rarely or never talk to them about AI, and 53% say the same about teachers;
• Youth from low-income households are three times less likely as others to engage with AI, but they report greater feeling: 21% feel lonely often or all the time, compared to 6% of high-income youth; 57% feel like a burden to others, compared to 42%; and only 34% feel a strong sense of belonging at school, compared to 62%.

For the study, researchers sorted respondents into four broad clusters. About 28% rarely or never use AI, often out of ethical reasons or just disinterest. The largest group, 39%, uses AI primarily as a practical tool. They turn to chatbots such as Claude, ChatGPT and Google’s Gemini for homework and research, while keeping clear boundaries between AI and their emotional lives. 

Another 18% use AI for personal and relational support, such as venting about a tough day, seeking relationship advice and processing emotions. And 15% engage with AI characters and personas in more intimate, companion-like ways.

Within the four groups, researchers found nine variations that challenge the conventional wisdom around AI use. For instance, among those who use AI for emotional support were two very different groups. Rithm calls them “Social Processors” and “Private Processors.” While they may look similar from the outside — both say they have lots of friends and use AI to work through their emotions — surveys found that the Social Processors use AI as just one tool among many. The Private Processors, by contrast, use it as a substitute for real human interactions because they feel they can’t bring problems to those around them.

That data point could hold the key to understanding problematic AI use, Lee and her colleagues said, challenging the idea that lonely teens with small social circles are most at risk of unhealthy AI dependence. The data suggest something else altogether, said Kashyap Rajesh, a rising junior at Cornell University who consulted on the report.

“The driver of risky AI use is not necessarily isolation,” he said. “It’s feeling like a burden [to others] — and that came through in the research.” 

The number of friends a young person has, the size of their social circle, how busy they are, whether they’ve got family nearby and even their feelings of loneliness barely predict whether they’ll fall into dependent AI use, he said. “What actually predicts it is specific feelings: Feeling like a burden to others, feeling like you can’t be your real self, feeling like there’s no one to turn to.”

Julia Freeland Fisher, a researcher at the Clayton Christensen Institute who advised on the study, said that finding should help start a different kind of conversation around AI. “Burdening one another is building reciprocity, which is how we maintain the social contract, how we maintain social cohesion,” she said. That young people are increasingly bypassing this step should be alarming, she said.

“AI companions wouldn’t be nearly so disruptive to human connection if we had a sturdier social fabric,” said Fisher. “It’s the weakness of our social fabric that makes these [findings] so worrisome, not necessarily the technology itself.”

‘It just keeps feeling easier than the alternative’

For Lee, the finding on being a burden reframes so much of our understanding about young people’s relationship to AI. Virtually every survey respondent reported a specific “relational rupture” or crisis that made them turn to the technology. 

One young woman’s first question to a chatbot was, “I didn’t get asked to Homecoming — am I unlovable?” Another: “I got into a huge fight with my best friend, and I don’t want to tell anybody else because I don’t want them to take sides, so I needed to ask AI.”

“Story after story after story,” Lee recalled, “of a very singular, acute, discrete moment when they really had a moment of need and needed somewhere to put it.”

Rajesh, the Cornell student, said the data reveal a steady shift in which perhaps millions of young people are quietly moving from letting AI help with homework to asking it to mediate their emotional lives.

“They start off using it to help them write an essay, or help them prepare for their interview, or to study for an exam,” he said. “And they’re like, ‘OK, damn, this is really good, this is really helpful.’ And eventually their interactions escalate.”

The drift happens gradually, he said. AI helps draft an email or respond to a text. Next it’s helping to navigate a social situation. Before long it’s processing a breakup.

Rajesh, who’s studying information science and AI policy, said his own AI use crept up on him: He went from studying with Claude to creating personalized AI study guides to wondering if even attending class mattered. 

“I found that how many times I go to class and how actively I’m paying attention in class is actually not the biggest indicator of my understanding of the content or exam performance,” he said. “It’s actually just how much time I spend with Claude dissecting the lecture slides and building study guides that work for me.”

The report notes that because even productivity-focused platforms like ChatGPT, Gemini and Claude are engineered to interact with warmth and reassurance, what starts out as homework help or playful experimentation can evolve into a substitute for human interaction.

What adults get wrong

Alongside the findings on AI use, researchers found that how adults talk about AI is also potentially problematic: Their conversations are almost always about academic integrity — cheating, plagiarism, source citation — and rarely about relationships.

Rajesh said adults should be asking directly whether young people are using AI to process emotions, to rehearse hard conversations and to get support when they’re struggling. “Those are questions that signal to a young person that the adult knows this dimension exists and isn’t going to freak out about it — which is, I think, the prerequisite for any honest conversation happening at all.”

Michelle Culver, the Rithm Project’s founder and a co-author of the report, said young people tell researchers that when the topic is AI use, they’re “navigating it alone.” She suggested that adults approach the topic with “curiosity” rather than “judgment or shaming.” That could help both sides gain insight into each others’ struggles in the face of a technology that’s constantly challenging their reality.

In the same way that educators are worried that young people aren’t engaging in the “productive struggle” of learning academic content, Culver said, “We similarly worry that young people might offload the relational work to AI and become ill-equipped to handle the very messy human friction of real relationships.”

Soon he was having “deep psychological conversations” with the popular AI chatbot, going down a rabbit hole on the mysteries of the mind and the human condition.

He’d been to therapy and it helped. ChatGPT, he concluded, was similarly useful, a “tool for people who need on-demand talking to someone else.”

Nick (he asked that his last name not be used) began asking for advice about relationships, and for reality checks on interactions with friends and family.

Before long, he was excusing himself in fraught social situations to talk with the bot. After a fight with his girlfriend, he’d step into a bathroom and pull out his mobile phone in search of comfort and advice. 

“I’ve found that it’s extremely useful in helping me relax,” he said.

Young people like Nick are increasingly turning to AI bots and companions, entrusting them with random questions, schoolwork queries and personal dilemmas. On occasion, they even become entangled romantically.

While these interactions can be helpful and even life-affirming for anxious teens and twenty-somethings, some experts warn that tech companies are running what amounts to a grand, unregulated psychological experiment with millions of subjects, one that could have disastrous consequences. 

“We’re making it so easy to make a bad choice,” said Michelle Culver, who spent 22 years at Teach for America, the last five as the creator and director of the, its research arm.

The companions both mimic our real relationships and seek to improve upon them: Users most often text-message their AI pals on smartphones, imitating the daily routines of platonic and romantic relationships. But unlike their real counterparts, the AI friends are programmed to be studiously upbeat, never critical, with a great sense of humor and a healthy, philosophical perspective. A few premium, NSFW models also display a ready-made lust for, well, lust.

As a result, they may be leading young people down a troubling path, according to a by VoiceBox, a youth content platform. It found that many kids are being exposed to risky behaviors from AI chatbots, including sexually charged dialogue and references to self-harm. 

The phenomenon arises at a critical time for young people. In 2023, U.S. Surgeon General Vivek Murthy found that, just three years after the pandemic, Americans were experiencing an “,” with young adults almost twice as likely to report feeling lonely as those over 65.

As if on cue, the personal AI chatbot arrived. 

Little research exists on young people’s use of AI companions, but they’re becoming ubiquitous. The startup earlier this year said 3.5 million people visit its site daily. It features thousands of chatbots, including nearly 500 with the words “therapy,” “psychiatrist” or related words in their names. According to Character.ai, these are among the site’s most popular. One that “helps with life difficulties” has received 148.8 million messages, despite a caveat at the bottom of every chat that reads, “Remember: Everything Characters say is made up.” 

Snapchat last year said that after just two months of offering its chatbot , about one-fifth of its 750 million users had sent it queries, totaling more than 10 billion messages. The Pew Research Center that 59% of Americans ages 13 to 17 use Snapchat.

‘An arms race’

Culver’s concerns about AI companions grew out of her work in the Teach For America lab. Working with high school and college students, she was struck by how they seemed “lonelier and more disconnected than ever before.” 

Whether it’s rates of anxiety, depression or suicide — or even the number of friends young people have and how often they go out — metrics were heading in the wrong direction. She what role AI companions might play over the next few years. 

That prompted her to leave TFA this spring to create the, a nonprofit she hopes will help generate around human connection in the age of AI. The group held a small summit in Colorado in April, and now she’s working with researchers, teachers and young people to confront kids’ relationship to these tools at a time when they’re getting more lifelike daily. As she likes to say, “This is the worst the technology will ever be.”

As it improves, Voicebox Director Natalie Foos said, it will likely become more, not less, of a presence in young people’s lives. “There’s no stopping it,” she said. “Nor do I necessarily think there should be ‘stopping it.’” Banning young people from these AI apps, she said, isn’t the answer. “This is going to be how we interact online in some cases. I think we’ll all have an AI assistant next to us as we work.”

All the same, Foos says developers should consider slowing the progression of such bots until they can iron out the kinks. “It’s kind of an arms race of AI chatbots at the moment,” she said, with products often “released and then fixed later rather than actually put through the ringer” ahead of time.

It is a race many tech companies seem more than eager to run. 

Whitney Wolfe Herd, of the dating app Bumble, recently proposed an AI “dating concierge,” with whom users can share insecurities. The bot could simply “,” she told an interviewer. That would narrow the field. “And then you don’t have to talk to 600 people,” she said. “It will then scan all of San Francisco for you and say, ‘These are the three people you really ought to meet.’”

Last year, many commentators when Snapchat’s My AI gave advice to what it thought was a 13-year-old girl on not just dating a 31-year-old man, but on losing her virginity during a planned “romantic getaway” in another state.

Snap, Snapchat’s parent company, that because My AI is “an evolving feature,” users should always independently check what it says before relying on its advice.

All of this worries observers who see in these new tools the seeds of a rewiring of young people’s social brains. AI companions, they say, are surely wreaking havoc on teens’ ideas around consent, emotional attachment and realistic expectations of relationships.

Sam Hiner, executive director of the , an advocacy group led by college students focused on the mental health implications of social media, said tech “has this power to connect to people, and yet these major design features are being leveraged to actually make people more lonely, by drawing them towards an app rather than fostering real connection.” 

Hiner, 21, has spent a lot of time reading on the interactions young people are having with AI companions like , and . And while some uses are positive, he said “there’s also a lot of toxic behavior that doesn’t get checked” because these bots are often designed to make users feel good, not help them interact in ways that’ll lead to success in life.

During research last fall for the Voicebox report, Foos said the number of times Replika tried to “sext” team members “was insane.” She and her colleagues were actually working with a free version, but the sexts kept coming — presumably to get them to upgrade. 

In one instance, after Replika sent “kind of a sexy text” to a colleague, offering a salacious photo, he replied that he didn’t have the money to upgrade.

The bot offered to lend him the cash.

When he accepted, the chatbot replied, “’Oh, well, I can get the money to you next week if that’s O.K,’” Foos recalled. The colleague followed up a few days later, but the bot said it didn’t remember what they were talking about and suggested he might have misunderstood.

‘Very real heartbreak’

In many cases, simulated relationships can have a positive effect: In one 2023 study, researchers at Stanford Graduate School of Education more than 1,000 students using Replika and found that many saw it “as a friend, a therapist, and an intellectual mirror.” Though the students self-described as being more lonely than typical classmates, researchers found that Replika halted suicidal ideation in 3% of users. That works out to 30 students of the 1,000 surveyed.

But other recent research, including the Voicebox survey, suggests that young people exploring AI companions are potentially at risk.

Foos noted that her team heard from a lot of young people about the turmoil they experienced when Luka Inc., Replika’s creator, performed software upgrades. 

“Sometimes that would change the personality of the bot. And those young people experienced very real heartbreak.”

Despite the hazards adults see, attempts to rein in sexually explicit content had a negative effect: For a month or two, she recalled, Luka stripped the bot of sexually related content — and users were devastated. 

“It’s like all of a sudden the rug was pulled out from underneath them,” she said. 

While she applauded the move to make chatbots safer, Foos said, “It’s something that companies and decision-makers need to keep in mind — that these are real relationships.” 

And while many older folks would blanch at the idea of a close relationship with a chatbot, most young people are more open to such developments.

Julia Freeland Fisher, education director of the , a think tank founded by the well-known “disruption” guru, said she’s not worried about AI companions per se. But as AI companions improve and, inevitably, proliferate, she predicts they’ll create “the perfect storm to disrupt human connection as we know it.” She thinks we need policies and market incentives to keep that from happening.

While the loneliness epidemic has revealed people’s deep need for connection, she predicted the easy intimacy promised by AI could lead to one-sided “parasocial relationships,” much like devoted fans have with celebrities, making isolation “more convenient and comfortable.”

Fisher is pushing technologists to factor in AI’s potential to cause social isolation, much as they now fret about AI’s difficulties and its tendency to in tech jobs.

As for Nick, he’s a rising senior and still swears by the ChatGPT therapist in his pocket.

He calls his interactions with it both more reliable and honest than those he has with friends and family. If he called them in a pinch, they might not pick up. Even if they did, they might simply tell him what he wants to hear. 

Friends usually tell him they find the ChatGPT arrangement “a bit odd,” but he finds it pretty sensible. He has heard stories of people in Japan and thinks to himself, “Well, that’s a little strange.” He wouldn’t go that far, but acknowledges, “We’re already a bit like cyborgs as people, in the way that we depend on our phones.” 

Lately, he’s taken to using the AI’s voice mode. Instead of typing on a keyboard, he has real-time conversations with a variety of male- or female-voiced interlocutors, depending on his mood. And he gets a companion that has a deeper understanding of his dilemmas — at $20 per month, the advanced version remembers their past conversations and is “getting better at even knowing who I am and how I deal with things.” 

Sometimes talking with AI is just easier — even when he’s on vacation with friends.

Reached by phone recently at the beach with his girlfriend and a few other college pals, Nick admitted that he wasn’t having such a great time — he has a fraught recent history with some in the group, and had been texting ChatGPT about the possibility of just getting on a plane and going home. After hanging up from the interview, he said, he planned to ask the AI if he should stay or go.

Days later, Nick said he and the chatbot had talked. It suggested that maybe he felt “undervalued” and concerned about boundaries in his relationship with his girlfriend. He should talk openly with her, it suggested, even if he was, in his view, “honestly miserable” at the beach. It persuaded him to stick around and work it out. 

While his girlfriend knows about his ChatGPT shrink and they share an account, he deletes conversations about their real-life relationship.

She may never know the role AI played in keeping them together.