If the world was some simulation, if you feel that you are a real bag of flesh and are able to feel conscuous, free will, etc. then it doesn’t really matter if the universe is a simulation in my opinion It would explain a lot though. Sometimes I completely forget what I was going to do/find in a room right after I entered it, which could easily be explained by someone high above pulling a funny prank on the flesh bags.

Neurology tells us that we make decisions before we’re consciously aware that we made them.

I felt that specifically on an anti-seizure drug that I used to stop familial tremors. Almost as if someone was walking in my body and doing everything 5 seconds before I knew what was happening. It’s not abnormal, but it can feel remarkably disconcerting to believe you no longer have agency of your own body. Sorry for that, homeslice, but don’t be too concerned.

I don’t feel like it’s scripted and that’s slightly worrying. I feel like a plank of wood being tossed about by the sea in a storm. At least with a benevolent god, one can assume that the suffering of life has a purpose. The older I get and the more evil I see prospering, the less confident I feel that there’s a point to it all. This depresses and mildly frightens me.

I don’t feel like any of those things, personally.

Not really, mine is pretty random and based on choices I made in the past

Where do you think the idea of “The Fates” comes from? Or any number of other similar deities/forces in nearly every society around the world. That feeling has been with us as humans for a long, long time.

Do you mean ‘life feels scripted’ in the sense of you feel like there is a narrative structure to life, like your actions and words are decided by an external writer? Or do you mean in the sense of life has a narrative economy, like someone could have ‘plot armor?’ Or is it the sense that life should have more structure, like it goes against some unwritten law of writing that some things could happen at all?

The worse things get in my life the more I feel like this. I believe it’s a consequence of being raised Christian. (Though I am an atheist now.) When I was younger I believed God never gives you more than you can handle. So when things got bad it felt like God was breaking that promise. Now that I’m older it feels like “bad writing.” Like, really? This many bad things in such a short time period? It’s a little on the nose, isn’t it? It’s why I can’t rewatch I saw the TV Glow until I know I am in a very stable mental place.

The irony being that I have been going through a bit of a gender journey for a while and knew the movie had themes to do with that, but none of that really hot anywhere close to home as the rest mentioned above. I’m just glad I planned to see it surrounded by friends.

The idea that there’s an escape hatch on reality is so alluring. The idea that all the bad things in your life are the fault of one person, even if they’re a metaphysical entity, is so appealing. The sad reality is that it’s all random and sometimes we just get unlucky streaks.

It sounds like depersonalisation to me. A form of dissociation.

Lots of trans people deal with it when they’re closeted. I know I did.

i think this is a common side effect of being self aware

little existential crises before getting back into life

If the world seems unreal & you feel like you’re watching yourself play a role in a movie rather than living your life, then that might be a psychiatric disorder worth evaluation by a professional. It’s normal on occasions, but not beyond that it interferes with your regular ability to function.

I don’t feel like my life is scripted per se, but sometimes I’ll be talking to someone and all of the sudden it feels like someone else has taken control of my body and is doing all the talking while I just sit back and watch. I have to concentrate to get back in control.

I don’t feel important enough for that. Same reason I’m not religious. People claiming a personal relationship with the goddamn creator of the universe are hella conceited.

Last night I turned off a small metalic lamp that’s next to my bed. I then heard a tapping sound like a small dripping water hitting the metalic lamp.

I turned the lamp on. I saw no water. The tapping stopped. I looked at the ceiling. No sign of water. I looked at the lamp. No water. Turned the light back off. Rolled back over, and got comfy.

Tap…tap…tap…

Turned the light back on. Tapping stopped. Still no water.

Turned the light off. The second the light was off, I heard the tap again.

Turned it back on. Still no water.

Got up, got out of bed, checked all around my night stand. Checked behind it. Nothing out of the ordinary.

While standing next to the bed, turned the light off. Tapping resumed.

Turned the light back on, and walked to the living room. Layed down on the couch.

Light on in the bedroom. I’m in the living room. Turn the living room light off.

Now there’s tapping inside the pipes inside the walls. Totally different tap. Totally different place. Totally different tapping sound. This didn’t sound like dripping water. This sounded like someone hitting the pipes with a wooden spoon with the same cadence.

Tap…tap…tap…

But it always stopped when I turned the light on.

So I went into the bathroom, and took a shower.

Now, here’s the kicker. I live alone. I have no pets. I have no rodents in the walls.

The whole thing came off like someone playing a prank on me. Except that person didn’t exist. It felt like I was living some 1930s comedy skit. Some Abbot and Costello skit. Except this is just me, alone in my apartment, going insane.