u/GU7EZ

Adoro debater aqui, e estive estudando sobre argumentos teológicos e gostaria de conversar com alguém sobre a argumentação da existência ou não existência de um criador inteligente, coloquei em específico o deus cristão no título pois a maioria nesse sub é cristão.

Sou ateu e estou convencido que não pode haver uma entidade senciente criadora, não sou arrogante a ponto de afirmar ter a resposta absoluta e irrefutável, mas também não creio que haja um, e até onde refleti, achei a probabilidade baixa, diante de um mundo que carece de provas, é uma visão minha, e eu gostaria de debater sobre ela.

Pra mim, o argumento mais forte de uma existência divina é o "deus de Spinoza", que interpreta a natureza como a própria criadora, o conjunto que rege as coisas como são, mas ausente de sentimentos ou ego, acho interessante essa reflexão, ainda que eu achei que ela foge demais do conceito de "deus", e por isso não é de fato um argumento a favor da existência de uma potência criadora.

Ok, vou explicar melhor meu raciocínio.

Muitos argumentos ou respostas às questões e dúvidas sobre Jeová apenas reforçam argumentos de sua inexistência, por exemplo, quando a resposta de alguém é sempre "pq deus quis", "pq deus planejou", ou o "pq temos uma mente limitada pra compreender os propósitos de Deus", me parecem muito mais que a pessoa admite não ter argumentos, e que está encerrando a conversa pq ela mesma não possui base pra crer.

Responder algo com "pq deus quis", é o mesmo que dizer que a arbitrariedade é o que rege nosso universo, ou em outras palavras, "a casualidade", se a presença de Jeová é indistinguivel de sua ausência, pq acreditar?

Outro exemplo, se alguém afirma que "deus curou ela", mas há explicação lógica ou até alternativa, então a existência de um deus é meramente uma possibilidade, e se a pessoa afirmar que a explicação pra sua cura só pode ser deus, qual a prova que o define como o responsável definitivo? Qual o motivo dessa pessoa ser curada, e outras com a mesma fé não?

São várias perguntas que no fim caem no "não tenho resposta ", e se não há resposta, o argumento se torna quase igual ao argumento ateu.

Não sei se estou sendo claro na minha argumentação, creio que conforme comentem eu possa dissertar melhor.

Mas o que estou dizendo é basicamente usar a navalha de occam nas suposições da existência ou inexistência de Jeová.

A navalha de occam é um termo que usamos na ciência, pra decidir qual teoria seria "mais válida" (por assim dizer), onde a mais simples deve ser a correta, ou seja, a que exige menos variáveis.

Um exemplo prático: você diz que orou pra deus e conseguiu um emprego, eu digo que você apenas foi escolhido pq era competente ou as outras opções eram piores. Qual dessas é mais simples? A afirmação que foi deus implica diversas questões: como foi feita essa interferência? Pq você conseguiu e outros não? Se outra pessoa também orou pelo emprego e não conseguiu, o que fez deus escolher você?

Viram como pra explicar a suposição é necessário diversas outras explicações? Se eu apenas disser que te escolheram pq era o melhor capacitado, não tem tanto malabarismo.

Admito que dei um exemplo banal, mas creio que funciona com qualquer situação, no fim a existência de Jeová é equiparavel a sua inexistência

Nesses últimos dias debati muito nesse sub sobre questões da sexualidade e cristianismo, decidi não falar mais sobre, mas essa dúvida brotou em minha mente e fiquei curioso.

Segundo a ciência, transexualidade é uma característica/condição que qualquer criança pode nascer, é quando seu cérebro nasce com a estrutura de um gênero e o corpo de outro, sim, embora muitos neguem, homens e mulheres tem características diferentes no modo de pensar e agir, não são diferenças gritantes de "um melhor que o outro", e sim mais como "inclinações". Esse tópico também me lembra dos intersexo.

Enfim, como sua religião explica/lida com essa questão? É tranquilo? Ela nem se importa? Ou é algum tabu ou problema? Se for pensar num aspecto científico, uma pessoa trans nasceu com um corpo que não corresponde ao seu cérebro, e uma cirurgia de mudança de gênero evitaria muito sofrimento, sua religião seria a favor disso?

Quero apenas saber o posicionamento de vocês.

Aliás, pra qualquer um que venha com comentários ofensivos ou favoráveis à violência, vá buscar algo melhor pra fazer

Edit: o título deveria ser "como NÃO converter ateus", esqueci de colocar o não

Galerinha, ateu aqui, vim trazer umas dicas de como não converter um ateu:

Não diga que vamos pro inferno por sermos ateus (não acreditamos no inferno);

Não diga que somos do demônio (não acreditamos em demônios);

Tentar nos convencer que sem deus não há moral é quase que ignorando que temos empatia;

Não adianta dizer que quando ficarmos mais velhos vamos entender (tem ateu idoso pô);

E por fim, qual o problema de ser ateu véi? A maioria tá de boa, fazendo o bem, ouvindo seu rock, salvo as discussões da internet, somos tranquilos.

Ok, tô generalizando, mas percebo como muitos cristãos usam passagens bíblicas ou o entendimento próprio dessas, para validar esses preconceitos, mas sejamos sinceros, não seguimos tudo que está na bíblia (nem quem é cristão). querendo ou não, a bíblia é um livro feito na sua época por homens de sua época, usando o próprio argumento cristão, é a "moral progressiva", então quando insistem em coisas como proibir sexo entre pessoas de mesmo gênero, divórcio ou piercings e tattoos, não pensam que talvez isso seja algo só para aquela época, e hoje em dia poderia ser aceito (já que são coisas que não afetam em nada os outros, são questões e escolhas individuais).

Porém, muitas coisas hoje em dia são permitidas e nem são vistas como problemas, já não são rígidos com guardar o sábado, com vestimentas ou alimentação, e na verdade tem um monte de atrocidade que obviamente não se segue atualmente (ninguém escraviza ou vende a própria filha, e todos concordamos que estu*ro é errado).

Ok, partindo do pressuposto que quem esteja lendo não seja um negacionista, por que deus criou os dinossauros e tantas outras espécies ao longo do tempo? Tipo, provavelmente a resposta de alguns é de que "não dá pra saber os mistérios da vontade de deus", mas qual a sua opinião sobre?

Tipo, dinossauros ficaram milhões de anos na Terra, e então foram extintos/evoluíram (lembrando que conceito de evolução não é "macaco vira homem", evolução é mais complexo que isso e tá mais pra "macaco e homem são descendentes do mesmo primata", de modo extremamente simplificado), voltando a questão, eles existiram por muito mais tempo que os humanos existem, qual o motivo de sua criação por deus segundo vocês? Só poder virar petróleo para os humanos?

​

I’m 72 years old. Time hasn't been very kind to me—my knees ache, my back creaks, and my eyes aren't what they used to be. Sometimes I stop to reminisce about my youth and wish I could go back to those days. But we don't always get what we wish for.

One day, while I was lost in my usual reflections, remembering the past, I recalled something I hadn't seen in years, forgotten among my books and old memories. I went to look for my photo album—the old album where I kept every single record I made throughout my life.

I used to love taking pictures. I was a photographer when I was younger, before switching careers to become a stationery store owner. Nowadays, I just print other people's photos. With that album, I relived my best moments. I saw my childhood, where I was always smiling; my adventurous teenage years with a bright future ahead; my younger self as a budding photographer; when I met my wife; my first daughter, Giovanna; and then my son, Rômulo. Those were fantastic times. Seeing all of it made me think I had a beautiful, proud journey...

I decided to show Isadora, my wife, the wonderful memories that had been eternalized in those photos.

"Look, Isadora, look! Do you remember this day? Our trip to the beach! We had so much fun with the sea and the sun that day!"

Isadora looked at me with a frown. She was drinking coffee from her red mug. She set the mug aside, put her hands in her lap, and, looking puzzled, said to me:

"Paulo, you must really be losing your mind, aren't you? Don't you remember that day properly?"

I blinked, confused, and replied with a, "But... it was a good day, wasn't it? The beach day."

"Paulo, right after that picture was taken, the weather turned terrible. We got caught in a massive storm, everyone caught a cold, and Giovanna even got pneumonia. On top of that, we were mugged on the way home!"

I had completely forgotten about those things, but the moment Isadora brought them up, I felt ashamed. How could I forget?

The beach day really had been a massive disaster. I flipped through the pages, looking for another good memory—some record that would make me happy again to make up for the disappointment of remembering the beach wrong.

I found a photo from my father's 82nd birthday. I was hugging him, and my two children were smiling next to us, each clinging to one of my legs.

"Well... the beach was bad, I remembered it wrong. But this day right here was good, wasn't it? My father's birthday. I remember him being a great grandfather to the kids, he always helped us during hard times! In fact, I think it was on this very day that he gave me this album, and that's how I started keeping all our photos here!"

Isadora, still frowning, rolled her eyes.

"My old man, you're really not well, are you? What happened? Why are you digging through that old album? And remembering everything wrong on top of it..."

"W-w-what do you mean, remembering everything wrong? This was a good day too, wasn't it? I remember having a lot of fun!"

"It was good for you, Paulo. On that day, you had fun with your father, but what I remember about him is that he was a bitter old man! He would help us just to hold it over our heads later. He always talked bad about me, remember? He also treated your mother horribly. Forgive me, darling, but your father was a scoundrel! That's exactly why he died a week after that photo was taken."

I was about to argue back, but as my memory was jolted by Isadora's harsh words, I lost my voice. I lost my spirit. I closed the album and went to our bed, sitting on top of the sheets, trying to remember things correctly.

I opened the album again and began to analyze every photo, trying to remember what exactly made me capture each moment.

Only bad moments.

Every single photo looked cheerful, but in reality, they were all from terrible days. No exceptions... I sat there stunned, staring at the smiling faces in the pictures that stared back at me.

I had already been staring at a photo of my father for half an hour when I noticed something strange. A shadow... I started reviewing all the photos. A shadow. Every single photo featuring my father had some kind of shadow always lurking around.

The more I looked at the photos, the clearer the shadow became. The shadow was with me too, but never before that birthday of my father's. I panicked; at first, I thought I was going crazy, losing my mind. I took the album back to Isadora.

"Isa, love, you see it, don't you? The... the shadow?"

"Huh? That blur right there? Yes, yes, it must be that terrible camera of yours... or a spirit. You know I've always said those things are out there, right?"

"But... it's in every single photo!"

Isadora crossed herself and mumbled a few prayers.

"Don't say that, Paulo, you're going to give me a heart attack..."

She looked at the photos, looked at me, and walked away toward the kitchen, where she keeps her Bible on top of the refrigerator.

"Put that album away, Paulo. That thing belongs to the devil. Leave it alone. I never liked that cursed gift from your father."

But I couldn't put it away just yet...

I went to grab my old Polaroid. Even as time passed, I had always taken good care of it—a prized possession. I still took photos with it sometimes, for old times' sake.

With the camera in hand, I hurried over to the living room mirror.

With trembling hands, I aimed the lens and waited for the picture to come out, shaking it to reveal the image.

I sighed in relief when I found no visible shadow. A relief that was short-lived, because as I looked back at the album, a thought struck me: maybe the problem wasn't the photos... but the "album" itself.

I sat down on the bed, picked up the album, and slowly turned to the very back where there was still some empty space. I slipped the newly taken photo inside... The shadow appeared right there. And it took shape. It grew a hand—a hand that rested on my shoulder.

A hand that I actually felt on my shoulder.

Out of my peripheral vision, I saw long, pale fingers with sharp nails resting on my shoulder. I spun around quickly in terror.

Nothing.

When I looked back at the photo, the shadow was right there, staring at me from the picture—motionless, but wearing a sinister grin. I slammed the album shut. I hid it at the very bottom of a box of old junk and left it in the basement to be forgotten.

I remembered something my father used to say: "Photos are a way to stay immortal." They preserve a moment in time, and even if the day was horrible, a photo can make that day look perfect. That shadow must still be with me to this day... waiting for me, watching me...

I don't know what will happen to me, but after that day, I never took another photo again.

​

I’m 72 years old. Time hasn't been very kind to me—my knees ache, my back creaks, and my eyes aren't what they used to be. Sometimes I stop to reminisce about my youth and wish I could go back to those days. But we don't always get what we wish for.

One day, while I was lost in my usual reflections, remembering the past, I recalled something I hadn't seen in years, forgotten among my books and old memories. I went to look for my photo album—the old album where I kept every single record I made throughout my life.

I used to love taking pictures. I was a photographer when I was younger, before switching careers to become a stationery store owner. Nowadays, I just print other people's photos. With that album, I relived my best moments. I saw my childhood, where I was always smiling; my adventurous teenage years with a bright future ahead; my younger self as a budding photographer; when I met my wife; my first daughter, Giovanna; and then my son, Rômulo. Those were fantastic times. Seeing all of it made me think I had a beautiful, proud journey...

I decided to show Isadora, my wife, the wonderful memories that had been eternalized in those photos.

"Look, Isadora, look! Do you remember this day? Our trip to the beach! We had so much fun with the sea and the sun that day!"

Isadora looked at me with a frown. She was drinking coffee from her red mug. She set the mug aside, put her hands in her lap, and, looking puzzled, said to me:

"Paulo, you must really be losing your mind, aren't you? Don't you remember that day properly?"

I blinked, confused, and replied with a, "But... it was a good day, wasn't it? The beach day."

"Paulo, right after that picture was taken, the weather turned terrible. We got caught in a massive storm, everyone caught a cold, and Giovanna even got pneumonia. On top of that, we were mugged on the way home!"

I had completely forgotten about those things, but the moment Isadora brought them up, I felt ashamed. How could I forget?

The beach day really had been a massive disaster. I flipped through the pages, looking for another good memory—some record that would make me happy again to make up for the disappointment of remembering the beach wrong.

I found a photo from my father's 82nd birthday. I was hugging him, and my two children were smiling next to us, each clinging to one of my legs.

"Well... the beach was bad, I remembered it wrong. But this day right here was good, wasn't it? My father's birthday. I remember him being a great grandfather to the kids, he always helped us during hard times! In fact, I think it was on this very day that he gave me this album, and that's how I started keeping all our photos here!"

Isadora, still frowning, rolled her eyes.

"My old man, you're really not well, are you? What happened? Why are you digging through that old album? And remembering everything wrong on top of it..."

"W-w-what do you mean, remembering everything wrong? This was a good day too, wasn't it? I remember having a lot of fun!"

"It was good for you, Paulo. On that day, you had fun with your father, but what I remember about him is that he was a bitter old man! He would help us just to hold it over our heads later. He always talked bad about me, remember? He also treated your mother horribly. Forgive me, darling, but your father was a scoundrel! That's exactly why he died a week after that photo was taken."

I was about to argue back, but as my memory was jolted by Isadora's harsh words, I lost my voice. I lost my spirit. I closed the album and went to our bed, sitting on top of the sheets, trying to remember things correctly.

I opened the album again and began to analyze every photo, trying to remember what exactly made me capture each moment.

Only bad moments.

Every single photo looked cheerful, but in reality, they were all from terrible days. No exceptions... I sat there stunned, staring at the smiling faces in the pictures that stared back at me.

I had already been staring at a photo of my father for half an hour when I noticed something strange. A shadow... I started reviewing all the photos. A shadow. Every single photo featuring my father had some kind of shadow always lurking around.

The more I looked at the photos, the clearer the shadow became. The shadow was with me too, but never before that birthday of my father's. I panicked; at first, I thought I was going crazy, losing my mind. I took the album back to Isadora.

"Isa, love, you see it, don't you? The... the shadow?"

"Huh? That blur right there? Yes, yes, it must be that terrible camera of yours... or a spirit. You know I've always said those things are out there, right?"

"But... it's in every single photo!"

Isadora crossed herself and mumbled a few prayers.

"Don't say that, Paulo, you're going to give me a heart attack..."

She looked at the photos, looked at me, and walked away toward the kitchen, where she keeps her Bible on top of the refrigerator.

"Put that album away, Paulo. That thing belongs to the devil. Leave it alone. I never liked that cursed gift from your father."

But I couldn't put it away just yet...

I went to grab my old Polaroid. Even as time passed, I had always taken good care of it—a prized possession. I still took photos with it sometimes, for old times' sake.

With the camera in hand, I hurried over to the living room mirror.

With trembling hands, I aimed the lens and waited for the picture to come out, shaking it to reveal the image.

I sighed in relief when I found no visible shadow. A relief that was short-lived, because as I looked back at the album, a thought struck me: maybe the problem wasn't the photos... but the "album" itself.

I sat down on the bed, picked up the album, and slowly turned to the very back where there was still some empty space. I slipped the newly taken photo inside... The shadow appeared right there. And it took shape. It grew a hand—a hand that rested on my shoulder.

A hand that I actually felt on my shoulder.

Out of my peripheral vision, I saw long, pale fingers with sharp nails resting on my shoulder. I spun around quickly in terror.

Nothing.

When I looked back at the photo, the shadow was right there, staring at me from the picture—motionless, but wearing a sinister grin. I slammed the album shut. I hid it at the very bottom of a box of old junk and left it in the basement to be forgotten.

I remembered something my father used to say: \*"Photos are a way to stay immortal."\* They preserve a moment in time, and even if the day was horrible, a photo can make that day look perfect. That shadow must still be with me to this day... waiting for me, watching me...

I don't know what will happen to me, but after that day, I never took another photo again.

Ateu aqui, estudante de física, e uma dúvida que sempre me leva a debates é simples, se uma entidade superpoderosa, além do tempo e espaço, pode criar toda a existência, matéria e regras da própria realidade, porque coisas como homossexualidade ou virgindade antes do casamento seriam tão importantes assim a ponto de condenar alguém ao sofrimento eterno no pós vida? Existem milhões de galáxias, a estatística de haver vida inteligente belas é alta, essas regras se aplicariam a essas formas de vida também? Ou no caso se acredita que somos a única forma de vida? Se somos a única forma de vida, porque criar um universo ridiculamente enorme? Porque regras morais cristãs e judaicas mudam em questão de centenas de anos quando o universo e tudo nele tem bilhões de anos?

O tempo da humanidade aqui é ínfimo e sempre nos leva a questões que talvez nunca saberemos as respostas, porém devo admitir que não tenho como saber as respostas dessas questões, porque cristãos e adeptos de outras religiões afirmam saber destas respostas mesmo quando nem conhecimentos históricos e científicos possuem?

Não quero desrespeitar ninguém aqui, mas gerar um debate que pra mim parece ser um pensamento conflitante com a fé de muitos, e por gentileza, não acho que negacionismo científico possa ser uma resposta válida

​

Before I tell my story, I'll give you a little context: I live with my parents and my two sisters, and I work as a manager at a chicken place in the city mall.

This happened a few months ago. I noticed that everyone around me was way too focused on me, on everything I did, as if they were waiting for a... slip-up.

I noticed it during dinner. I was cutting the meat on my plate, and suddenly, when I looked up, they were all staring at me, without touching their food. As soon as I looked at them, they started eating too.

It sounds like pure paranoia, I know. I thought so too at first, but it had become so common that there definitely had to be something wrong. When I went to buy something, everyone in the supermarket would stop, and I could feel their eyes on me. When I was in the bathroom, I always felt people right outside my door.

I was paranoid, but I still doubted myself. A week had passed, and on my day off, my sister insisted on watching The Truman Show. The whole family sat down in the living room and we started watching the movie. The movie was pretty fun, and in that scene where Jim Carrey starts acting unpredictably to test the show's production, I laughed and went to comment on the scene. But before I could even speak, my entire family was turned toward me.

I lost my words. They were staring at me blankly. I just sat there quietly, looking back awkwardly. I think it was half an hour of this completely uncomfortable staring match, which I finally decided to end by making some random comment, because I had already forgotten the original comment I was going to make.

After that day, I started writing down everything I found strange. Every night I wrote in my little notebook, and I kept it with me at all times. I tried to pretend everything was still normal, but "they" seemed to notice I was getting suspicious.

Those outside my room were not my family...

I would walk down the street and notice the stares on me. The customers where I worked would come in and just stand there looking at me. When I caught the bus, there was always exactly one empty seat left. And after that movie night, things got even stranger.

They started testing me. They started creating situations to see if I would "admit" that I knew everything. I would get to work and my coworkers would just stand there, still the entire day, just staring at me, tracking me with their heads. And the customers would just sit there at the tables, staring at me, also tracking wherever I went with their heads.

I got home that day, and the table was already set, everyone waiting for me. I sat down at the table, and on everyone's plate was a dead chicken... Feathers and all. Everyone at the table was looking at me, as if this was completely normal.

And then they said grace to thank for the food, and started eating the chicken.

They stared at me while eating the animal's corpse without it even being cooked. I then tried to make an excuse: "Guys, honestly, I had a shitty day at work today, I don't think I'm hungry. I can't stand looking at chicken right now."

I tried to stay calm. I excused myself while they were right there at the table, gave everyone a hug and a kiss on my mother's forehead like my usual routine, and went up to take a shower, changed, and went into my room.

I covered myself up and spent the night wide awake, lying down and praying that nothing bad would happen. I didn't know what they would do if I "did something wrong," but I didn't want to find out.

I woke up and, with a lot of fear and hesitation, got up to go to work. My sisters woke up and, after a mumbled good morning, went to get ready for school. The day seemed normal; I didn't feel watched or observed. I suspected I was back where I belonged, but I wasn't sure...

I kept up the act, but much more at ease. It no longer felt like the world was looking at me like a fly circling a spiderweb.

Five days passed, and suddenly my youngest sister hugged me, and said, half-tearing up: "You're back to normal, right? You were so strange these past few days... Mom and Dad told us to pretend nothing was happening."

I don't know what happened. Sometimes I wonder if everything really is normal, but whatever that experience was, something swapped places with me, and I got very lucky to have come back.

​

Before I tell my story, I'll give you a little context: I live with my parents and my two sisters, and I work as a manager at a chicken place in the city mall.

This happened a few months ago. I noticed that everyone around me was way too focused on me, on everything I did, as if they were waiting for a... slip-up.

I noticed it during dinner. I was cutting the meat on my plate, and suddenly, when I looked up, they were all staring at me, without touching their food. As soon as I looked at them, they started eating too.

It sounds like pure paranoia, I know. I thought so too at first, but it had become so common that there definitely had to be something wrong. When I went to buy something, everyone in the supermarket would stop, and I could feel their eyes on me. When I was in the bathroom, I always felt people right outside my door.

I was paranoid, but I still doubted myself. A week had passed, and on my day off, my sister insisted on watching The Truman Show. The whole family sat down in the living room and we started watching the movie. The movie was pretty fun, and in that scene where Jim Carrey starts acting unpredictably to test the show's production, I laughed and went to comment on the scene. But before I could even speak, my entire family was turned toward me.

I lost my words. They were staring at me blankly. I just sat there quietly, looking back awkwardly. I think it was half an hour of this completely uncomfortable staring match, which I finally decided to end by making some random comment, because I had already forgotten the original comment I was going to make.

After that day, I started writing down everything I found strange. Every night I wrote in my little notebook, and I kept it with me at all times. I tried to pretend everything was still normal, but "they" seemed to notice I was getting suspicious.

Those outside my room were not my family...

I would walk down the street and notice the stares on me. The customers where I worked would come in and just stand there looking at me. When I caught the bus, there was always exactly one empty seat left. And after that movie night, things got even stranger.

They started testing me. They started creating situations to see if I would "admit" that I knew everything. I would get to work and my coworkers would just stand there, still the entire day, just staring at me, tracking me with their heads. And the customers would just sit there at the tables, staring at me, also tracking wherever I went with their heads.

I got home that day, and the table was already set, everyone waiting for me. I sat down at the table, and on everyone's plate was a dead chicken... Feathers and all. Everyone at the table was looking at me, as if this was completely normal.

And then they said grace to thank for the food, and started eating the chicken.

They stared at me while eating the animal's corpse without it even being cooked. I then tried to make an excuse: "Guys, honestly, I had a shitty day at work today, I don't think I'm hungry. I can't stand looking at chicken right now."

I tried to stay calm. I excused myself while they were right there at the table, gave everyone a hug and a kiss on my mother's forehead like my usual routine, and went up to take a shower, changed, and went into my room.

I covered myself up and spent the night wide awake, lying down and praying that nothing bad would happen. I didn't know what they would do if I "did something wrong," but I didn't want to find out.

I woke up and, with a lot of fear and hesitation, got up to go to work. My sisters woke up and, after a mumbled good morning, went to get ready for school. The day seemed normal; I didn't feel watched or observed. I suspected I was back where I belonged, but I wasn't sure...

I kept up the act, but much more at ease. It no longer felt like the world was looking at me like a fly circling a spiderweb.

Five days passed, and suddenly my youngest sister hugged me, and said, half-tearing up: "You're back to normal, right? You were so strange these past few days... Mom and Dad told us to pretend nothing was happening."

I don't know what happened. Sometimes I wonder if everything really is normal, but whatever that experience was, something swapped places with me, and I got very lucky to have come back.

Sou ateu, e sempre tive um pensamento que não entendi sobre o pessoal cristão, quando se fala das teorias da origem do universo, muitos dizem que "o universo não pode vir do nada", mas deus/Jeová veio da onde então? Não seria isso um ciclo interminável de quem veio primeiro?o ovo ou a galinha? Alguns respondem que deus sempre existiu, que ele é eterno, se for usar a lógica e até a física também há a possibilidade do universo sempre existir, ou até mesmo reflexões cujo antes do Big Bang havia outra coisa que não o universo como conhecemos.

O que quero dizer é, como cristãos respondem essa questão? Pois de um ponto de vista lógico o argumento da "sempre existência" é válido pra deus e o universo (seja universo estático ou em expansão)

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Antes de contar minha história, vou dar um pouco de contexto, moro com meus pais, e minhas duas irmãs, trabalho como gerente em uma loja de frango no shopping da cidade.

Aconteceu alguns meses atrás, percebi que todos só meu redor estavam atentos demais em mim, a tudo que eu fazia,como se estivessem esperando um... Deslize.

Notei isso durante um jantar, eu cortava a carne de meu prato e de repente quando levantei meu olhar, estavam todos me olhando, sem tocar na comida, e assim que eu os olhei, eles começaram a comer também.

Parece só paranóia minha, eu sei, também pensei isso de início, mas tinha ficado tão comum que com certeza devia ter algo de errado. Quando eu ia comprar algo, todos no mercado paravam, e eu sentia que seus olhos estavam em mim. Quando eu estava no banheiro, sentia sempre as pessoas a minha porta.

Eu estava paranóico, porém ainda duvidava de mim mesmo. Uma semana havia se passado, eu no meu dia de folga, minha irmã insistiu em assistir "o show de Truman", a família inteira se sentou na sala de estar e começamos a ver o filme. O filme era bem divertido, e naquela cena que o Jim Carrey começa a agir de modo imprevisível pra testar a produção do programa, eu ri e fui comentar sobre a cena, mas antes mesmo de eu falar, toda a minha família estava virada pra mim, eu perdi as palavras, eles estavam me olhando de modo inexpressivo, eu fiquei ali quieto olhando sem graça. Acho que foi meia hora dessa troca de olhares totalmente desconfortável, cujo eu decidi encerrar finalmente fazendo algum comentário qualquer, porque eu já tinha esquecido o comentário original que eu iria fazer.

Após esse dia eu comecei a anotar tudo que eu achava estranho. Toda noite eu escrevia no meu caderninho, e deixava ele sempre comigo. Eu tentei fingir que estava tudo normal ainda, mas "eles" pareciam perceber que eu estava desconfiando. Aqueles fora do meu quarto não eram minha família...

Eu andava na rua e percebia os olhares sobre mim. Os clientes da onde eu trabalhava vinham e ficavam ali me olhando. Quando eu pegava o ônibus, sempre havia um único lugar desocupado.

E depois daquela noite do filme, as coisas ficaram mais estranhas.

Eles começaram a ne testar, começaram a criar situações pra ver se eu "admito" que sei de tudo. Eu chegava no serviço e meus colegas de trabalho ficavam ali, parados o dia todo, só me olhando, me acompanhando com a cabeça, e os clientes ficavam ali, sentados nas mesas apenas me olhando, também acompanhando com a cabeça pra onde quer que eu ia.

Eu cheguei em casa nesse dia, e a mesa já estava arrumada, todos me esperando, eu me sentei a mesa, e no prato de cada um uma galinha morta...

Com penas e tudo, todos na mesa me olhando, como se isso fosse normal.

E então eles fizeram a oração pra agradecer a comida, e começaram a comer a galinha.

Eles me olhavam enquanto comiam o defunto do animal sem sequer estar cozido, eu então tentei dar uma desculpa, "gente, sinceramente, hoje tive um dia de merda no trabalho, acho que não tô com fome, não tô suportando olhar pra frango agora", tentei me manter calmo, me troquei enquanto eles estavam ali na mesa, deu um abraço em cada um e um beijo na testa de minha mãe como é minha rotina, e subi pra tomar um banho, me troquei e entrei em meu quarto.

Me cobri e passei a noite em claro, deitado e rezando pra que não acontecesse algo de ruim. Eu não sabia o que fariam se eu "fizesse algo errado", mas eu não queria testar pra ver.

Eu acordei e com muito medo e receio me levantei pra ir ao trabalho.

Minhas irmãs acordaram e após um bom dia resmungando, foram se arrumar pra escola. O dia pareceu normal, não me senti vigiado, nem observado. Eu suspeitei que estava de volta a onde deveria estar, mas eu não tinha certeza...

Mantive o papel, mas muito mais tranquilo, não parecia mais que o mundo olhava pra mim como uma mosca rodeando uma teia de aranha.

Cinco dias se passaram e de repente minha irmã mais nova me abraçou, e falou meio choroso "você voltou ao normal né? Você tava tão estranho esses dias... Papai e mamãe disse pra fingir que nada tava acontecendo".

Eu não sei o que houve, as vezes me pergunto se realmente está tudo normal, mas o que quer que foi essa experiência, algo trocou de lugar comigo, e eu dei muita sorte de ter voltado

Assisti ao filme das backrooms, e simplesmente adorei, o filme é um baita terror, primeira vez que fiquei tão tenso assistindo a um filme.

Porém, vi algumas críticas ao filme que pra mim pareceram meio sem sentido. O filme é bem agitado até, o tempo todo tem algo na tela e a tensão é construída com o clima extremamente bizarro e um trabalho de som que te deixa tenso e desconfortável o tempo todo.

Vi muita gente dizendo que a "lore" não foi bem aproveitada, lore essa que as backrooms nem tem, foi um conceito da internet que surgiu com pouquíssimos detalhes em fóruns do 4chan, ficou popular e se espalhou, Kane foi um dos responsáveis pela popularização das backrooms, tendo sua própria forma de explorar o conceito.

Acho que muita gente esperou que o filme fosse inspirado nos jogos que tem milhares de níveis e bizarrices com diversos monstros.vi gente criticando por não ter as poolrooms(???)

Também vi críticas por causa que o filme não "seria o que são as backrooms de verdade", e muitos desses comentários são de pessoas que queriam duas horas de pessoas explorando um lugar infinito , e sem monstros, o que achei se fosse assim seria muito chato e nem terror seria.

O monstro do filme faz sentido pra história e pra todo o conceito de backrooms explorado no filme, ele não dá medo, mas quanto mais de olha mais esquisito fica.

É um filme interessante, e bem experimental, ele não explica muita coisa, mas quer que você deduza. Entendo quem não gostar, mas acho que há motivos melhores do que noções pessoais do que deveria ser as "backrooms", muita gente foi ver o filme com um roteiro na cabeça, e quando não foi o que queria, disseram que era ruim.

I had an idea—I don't know if it's a bit cliché or if it's actually a good concept, but I thought of it while reflecting on the Backrooms. It's terrifying when we are in an unknown, massive, and empty place that is vaguely similar to our daily lives. But what if it were the exact opposite: a place identical to what we see every single day?

You are just living your life normally when you realize something is wrong. This isn't your world, you don't even know when you got here, and the people you know aren't actually the people you know. Everything and everyone seems to be watching your every move, waiting... watching to see if you slip up, if you show them you've figured out that it's all just a... 'Theater'.

You can either hope that, just like how you randomly arrived, you'll eventually return to your world... or they might realize you've unmasked them. And if that happens... just pray

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​Content Warnings: Mention of fake SA claims, uncomfortable roleplay requests, TPK.

​Sorry for the delay on this final part, everyone—I ended up getting sick, but we're back. To recap our cast: Blair (my former friend, the egocentric "witch" and source of all chaos), Saitama (my bald friend), and The Guest (Blair's little brother).

​Before diving into the final session, I need to back up a bit and share some context that makes the ending even worse. Looking back at this entire experience is honestly cringing, especially because I feel embarrassed by my own immaturity and how easily I let her turn my campaign into an absolute circus.

​The Session 0 "Agreement"

​Before the campaign started, we had a mini Session 0. I told Saitama and Blair that I wanted a dark story with blood and grim themes (which, as you know, I later toned down for her brother). Both agreed, but Blair had one strict condition: she wanted absolutely no sexual assault (SA) in the game.

​She claimed she had survived multiple instances of SA in her past and grew up with extremely abusive parents. Because of this, I was fiercely protective of her comfort zone. I had dealt with severe bullying and harassment in school myself, so I wanted to be a supportive, understanding DM. I overcompensated by being way too patient with her erratic behavior. Honestly, her request wasn't even necessary; I never planned on including themes like that anyway. I don’t think it belongs in a casual TTRPG session, period.

​But keep her "heavy trauma" in mind as we get to the next part.

​The Kidnapping and the Discord Incident

​As a reminder, we had three main villains: a mercenary vampire hunter, a yandere stalking Saitama’s PC, and a psychotic serial killer obsessed with smiles. Throughout the campaign, this serial killer had been leaving a trail of bodies, and I dropped clues for the party to track him down.

​In the penultimate session, Blair’s character got kidnapped by him. My plan was to have a brief scene where the killer interrogates her while the rest of the party scrambles to find her. We played over Discord, so I made the classic rookie mistake of splitting the party into two different voice channels, hopping back and forth between them to run both scenes.

​It was annoying, but that wasn't the horror story. The horror story was what happened when I jumped into Blair’s channel.

​Completely out of nowhere, Blair asked me to roleplay the serial killer sexually assaulting her character.

​I was stunned. I immediately said no. She doubled down and kept insisting. It made absolutely no sense given her boundaries, and it deeply uncomfortable to me. I kept refusing and literally reminded her of our agreement at the start of the game. She just casually shrugged it off and said, "Oh, I'm totally fine with it right now."

​I put my foot down. I told her if she wanted to imagine that happened to her character off-screen, that was her business, but I was absolutely not going to voice or roleplay an abuse scene.

​Eventually, the party found her, killed the serial killer, and rescued her. But the aftermath of this real-life situation came to light much later.

​The Truth About Blair

​Months after the campaign collapsed, I discovered that Blair was a textbook compulsive liar. She lied about everything. Her parents weren’t abusive at all; they were actually deeply religious, super chill Evangelical parents who completely spoiled her rotten and didn't mind her edgy "demon-worshiping witch" persona.

​Worse, her stories about her past trauma were completely fabricated. It was all a manipulation tactic. She weaponized the concept of parental abuse and SA just to garner pity, ensure people wouldn't question her, and escape the consequences of her actions. This is an RPG sub, so I’ll stick to the game, but her real-life toxicity could fill a whole separate thread.

​The Forgotten Sidequest

​When I was talking to Saitama recently to double-check my memory of this campaign, he reminded me of a ridiculous sidequest I completely forgot about.

​The party had a mission to infiltrate a "Hunter Academy"—a school that trained warriors who made pacts with shadow entities. It was supposed to be a stealth/investigation mission. It failed spectacularly. Blair picked a fight with the friendly NPC guide, decided to ally herself with the quest's minor villain, helped murder our ally NPC, and then summoned a shadow entity that slaughtered every single student and teacher in the academy. The rest of the party just kind of rolled with it because they wanted to get back to the main plot.

​The Grand Finale TPK

​This brings us to the final showdown. The plan was to raid a massive vampire nest, team up with some remaining NPC allies, defeat the villains, and save the city.

​But Blair didn't want to save the city. She wanted to force a "Main Character Villain Arc." She even named her character Lily as a heavy-handed reference to Lilith. She wanted to strike a deal with the main villain (the mercenary hunter).

​Too bad for her, I had built this villain as an completely indifferent sociopath. I dropped massive red flags. I literally had the villain tell her face-to-face: "I am going to betray and kill you." The players had been ruining the villains' plans all campaign, so eliminating the party was his top priority.

​Blair ignored every single warning. She walked the entire party directly into an obvious ambush, effectively delivering them to the slaughterhouse. The vampire hunter boss ambushed them, and combined with some truly abysmal dice rolls from the party, it was a swift, brutal TPK.

​The Aftermath

​The campaign ended with a incredibly bitter taste in our mouths. It started as a fun hobby, but devolved into an uncontrollable mess where Saitama and I were just passengers in Blair’s self-centered narrative. It felt less like I was the DM and more like she was backseat DMing the whole world.

​We stayed in contact with her for about another year before finally cutting ties. Before the split, she tried to DM a campaign of her own that was filled with blatant favoritism toward her online friends (Saitama and I hated it and left).

​On a bright note, I eventually started a brand-new campaign without Blair. I heavily refined my homebrew system, the new group is amazing, and the campaign is thriving. I wish I could give you a more satisfying, dramatic ending where I called her out at the table, but my final confrontation with her happened much later in real life, completely unrelated to RPGs.

​Thanks for reading through this mess, and happy rolling!

​TL;DR: Problem player claims severe past trauma to establish boundaries, only to later demand the DM roleplays an SA scene with her character. Months later, she is exposed as a compulsive liar who fabricated her trauma for clout. She goes on to ruin a stealth sidequest via mass murder and eventually causes a TPK by walking the party into an obvious trap during the finale to force a "cool villain arc."

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Sou ateu, mas estava refletindo sobre algumas crenças e discussões religiosas que acabei encontrando pelo YouTube, muitos cristãos afirmam que deve haver um deus pois o universo tem que ter surgido de algo, pois "surgir do nada" seria impossível/inconcebível, porém, eu indago, e a própria existência desse deus ? Se o universo não pode surgir do "nada", deus também não. Ouvi algumas respostas cujo me deixaram mais intrigado ainda, que "deus não surgiu do nada, pois ele sempre existiu", um argumento de eternidade cujo pra mim também seria válido pra existência do universo, fora a questão da teoria do Big Bang que diz que antes da expansão do universo, havia uma singularidade, o que também significa que antes das leis atuais da física haviam outras. No fim resumo o meu ponto com o pensamento de que nunca teremos resposta definitiva, mas o argumento de que "é necessário um deus pra existir matéria" é de certo modo fraco

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Sou H22, já desisti de app de namoro pois dificilmente dá match, e quando dá nunca me respondem (isso pq não uso o "oi td bem?", sempre faço uma pergunta em relação a algo do perfil,ou um elogio). Não sou muito de sair, mas constantemente vejo outros caras dizerem que "não querem se arriscar chegando em uma garota", ou o "não quero ser acusado de assédio", mas afinal, vocês mulheres, qual a opinião de vocês sobre isso? Quais lugares seriam péssimos pra se chegar em vocês (obviamente não vou chegar em alguém num velório), e como seria a forma mais cortês de abordar alguém que parece interessante?

Estou perguntando por uma dúvida que me apeteceu, mas como escolha pra vida decidi simplesmente seguir minha vida sem se preocupar com isso, se algo rolar com alguém, rolou, não vou ficar desesperado atrás de alguém, então nesse caso já estou mais resolvido comigo mesmo.

Nota: já tentei puxar conversas pelo insta mas também é difícil sequer obter resposta, e imagino que minha própria aparência pode ser um motivo (mesmo que eu me ache lindo)