I Don’t Want to Be an NPC Anymore: Why So Many of Us Feel Trapped in the 9

Today, I read a Reddit post that made me pause mid-scroll, mid-bite of a cold sandwich I didn’t actually want. Someone was quitting their job. Not for a better salary, not for remote work, not even for the elusive "career growth." They were leaving because they felt like an NPC.

You know, a non-player character. One of those background filler people in a video game who loop endlessly, saying things like, “Welcome to the marketplace!” while walking into walls.

And I swear, something in my soul whispered:
“Oh. It me."

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The Background Character Life

It starts out subtly. You wake up, hit snooze 3–7 times, scroll emails in bed like a raccoon rifling through digital trash, then drag yourself to your desk. Another day of looking alert in Zoom meetings while your spirit quietly dissolves in the background.

At lunch, you eat the same uninspired meal from the same uninspired cafe. At 3:00 PM, you question your life choices. At 5:58 PM, you consider quitting everything and moving to a coastal town to become a pottery teacher.

But instead... you update a spreadsheet.

And the next day? Repeat.

You start to wonder, am I living? Or am I just following a script someone else wrote for me? One where I occasionally get promoted for collecting enough digital tokens, like a grown-up version of Mario Kart, except there’s no fun and no bananas.

The Buzzwords Aren’t Helping

Somewhere along the way, work stopped being about contributing something meaningful and started sounding like a tech start-up Mad Libs.

We’re synergizing across verticals, we’re moving the needle, we’re circling back so aggressively we’ve basically formed a conga line of unresolved tasks. We’re out here ideating like we’re solving world hunger when in reality, we’re renaming a folder on Google Drive for the fifth time this quarter.

At some point, you realize you're not even doing the thing anymore. You're just doing the performance of doing the thing.

Like a corporate mime.

The Existential Lunch Break

Have you ever looked down at your sad little sandwich and thought, “Wow. This is my life now”? Like, really looked at it- dry bread, limp lettuce, maybe a slice of cheese that gave up hours ago - and wondered how you got here?

You’re sitting at your desk or in the pantry or on a patch of grass pretending it’s a wellness moment, but in reality, you’re spiraling. Your coworkers are talking about deadlines and their child’s cello recital, and you’re just trying to remember what you even liked to do before your whole life became Outlook calendar invites and counting down to Friday.

And somewhere between chewing and scrolling, the thoughts creep in:

“Am I wasting my life?”
“What would happen if I just… didn’t come back from lunch?”
“Is this why God gave me a brain, a soul, and Wi-Fi, so I could spend my best hours deleting duplicate rows in Excel?”

It’s not burnout exactly. Not full-on crisis mode either. It’s more like a slow unraveling, disguised as a quiet lunch break.

And the worst part? No one else seems to be cracking. Everyone else looks so fine. You start to wonder if they know something you don’t. Like maybe there’s a secret Slack channel where people get fulfillment tips. Or maybe they’ve all just accepted the simulation and you’re the only one glitching.

But here’s the thing. This isn’t just about your sandwich. Or your spreadsheet. It’s about that creeping disconnect that shows up when you’re doing all the “right” things and still feeling like something sacred is missing.

It’s your soul tapping you on the shoulder, whispering, “This isn’t it.”

And maybe the salad isn’t what’s bland. Maybe it’s the system that made you believe this loop is normal.

This Isn’t a Rant About Work

I’m not against work. I’m not saying we all need to go off-grid and raise chickens (unless you want to, in which case: please invite me). I’m saying a lot of us are quietly suffocating in jobs that don’t see us. That don’t need us, really. Just a warm body to fill a calendar slot and respond to Slack messages with mild urgency and emojis.

And when you spend most of your waking hours doing something that erases you, it starts to mess with your sense of identity. You forget who you are outside of deliverables.

And worse, you forget you’re allowed to be someone outside of them.

It’s Not Just You

You're not broken. You're not being dramatic. You're not the only one who feels like the walls of your workday are slowly closing in while you smile politely in meetings and say things like “sounds good” when nothing about it sounds good.

This quiet frustration so many of us feel? It’s everywhere. It's in the slumped shoulders during the Monday morning commute. It’s in the muted mics and forced enthusiasm on Zoom. It’s in the exhausted sighs at 11:07 PM when you're still replying to a “quick email” that definitely wasn’t quick.

Most of us have become so good at coping that we’ve forgotten we’re coping. We normalize the Sunday dread, the midweek burnout, and the vague feeling that we're supposed to be more excited about life than this. We've mastered the art of "it’s fine." But underneath the autopilot and adulting and pretending we love our “fast-paced environment,” a lot of us are quietly wondering the same thing:

Is this really it?

And no one really says it out loud, because we’re scared to sound ungrateful. Or dramatic. Or like we’re bad employees. So we push it down and push through and reward ourselves with overpriced lattes and 15 seconds of TikTok joy between meetings.

But here’s the truth: this low-grade discontent? It’s not failure. It’s awareness. It’s your heart noticing that something about this setup doesn’t quite align with the human you were made to be.

You're not weird for noticing it. You’re awake. You’re honest. You’re not alone.

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FAQ (Because yes, we’re conditioned to expect this part)

Q: Are most people unhappy with their jobs?

A: Yes, studies consistently show that a significant number of people are unhappy at work. Gallup’s global workplace report often finds that the majority of employees are disengaged or emotionally disconnected from their jobs. Many feel undervalued, overworked, or stuck in roles that don’t reflect their purpose or passions.

But the unhappiness isn’t always loud. For a lot of people, it shows up quietly - in burnout, in Sunday night dread, in the nagging sense that “this can’t be it.” They may stay because of financial needs, loyalty, or fear of change, but deep down, many are longing for work that feels more human, more meaningful, and less like a looped routine.

Q: How do you survive a job you don’t like?

A: To survive a job you don’t like, start by setting healthy boundaries, taking breaks, and creating small moments of joy during the day. Focus on what you can control, like your attitude, routines, and how you spend your time outside of work. Even tiny changes can make a draining job more bearable.

On a deeper level, try to anchor yourself in something bigger than the job. Maybe your faith, your purpose, or a side project that reminds you who you are outside the workplace. Talk to people who understand, journal through the hard days, and remind yourself this is a season, not a sentence. You’re allowed to feel the weight of it while still holding on to hope for something better.

Q: Did God intend for humans to work?

A: Yes, God designed work as part of His original plan for humanity. In Genesis 2:15, before the fall, God placed Adam in the garden “to work it and keep it.” Work was meant to be meaningful, creative, and in partnership with God, not burdensome or soul-crushing.

But after sin entered the world, work became painful and toilsome (Genesis 3:17–19). What was once a joy became a struggle. Still, the Bible affirms that work can be a way to serve others, reflect God’s character, and live with purpose. The problem isn't work itself, it’s when work becomes our identity, or when it forgets our humanity.

Relevant Reads

If you resonated with this, here are a few other pieces you might love:

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Instead of a Neat Conclusion

I’m not going to end this with advice. This isn’t a "10 Ways to Fix Your Life" kind of post.

Sometimes, what you need isn’t a solution. Sometimes, what you need is to know you’re not the only one looking at the ceiling at 2:00 AM wondering how you got here.

So if today you feel more like a character in someone else’s script than a real human with agency, joy, and a soul...

Breathe.

You’re still in there.

You’re not an NPC.

You’re just a little lost. A little tired. A little disillusioned by the buzzwords and deadlines and PowerPoints that no one will remember in three weeks.

And that’s okay.

We’ll find our way out together.

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