VR Feels Like Being Drunk… But Why? 😵💫🎮
Author by Phuong Le
VR Feels Like a Drunk Addiction I Never Signed Up For
You ever had one too many drinks? That moment when the room spins, your body feels weightless, and reality blurs into something just a little too wobbly?
That’s how VR makes me feel. Like I’ve been drinking, except I never took a sip.
I don’t even use VR. I don’t play in it. I don’t strap a headset on and escape reality. But I create in it. My art exists in VR mockups, floating in a space I don’t physically enter. And somehow, that’s enough to make me feel like I’m slipping, like I’m caught between two worlds, neither of which feel completely real.
The Digital Hangover
Addiction doesn’t happen all at once. It creeps in. A drink here, a drink there. A habit. A routine. And suddenly, what was once an option starts to feel like a need.
VR has that same pull.
At first, it’s just a tool, just a way to visualize my work. But the more I interact with it, the more I feel the side effects.
Dizziness. Like I’ve been spinning in my chair for too long.
Disorientation. As if I blinked and my brain forgot where it belongs.
Mental fatigue. Like my mind is working overtime, processing a reality that doesn’t even exist.
I don’t need to plug in to feel the effects. Just creating in VR is enough to leave me feeling like I’m hungover from a night out I never had.
Why Does VR Mess With My Brain?
Because VR isn’t just about technology. It’s about presence.
Even if I’m not physically inside a VR world, my art is. My work exists in a space that’s slightly detached from reality, and the more I interact with it, the more my brain struggles to adjust.
It’s like staring at a screen for too long, except worse. VR messes with spatial awareness, depth perception, and mental focus. My body stays in reality, but my mind drifts.
And that’s where the addiction comparison hits.
The Drunken Pull of an Unreal World
Addiction doesn’t start with a crash. It starts slow. A glass of wine after work. A sip here, a sip there. You tell yourself it’s just a little escape, something small, something you control. Until it’s not.
VR or the idea of it has that same pull.
At first, it’s just a tool. A mockup. A concept. A space for my art to exist. But the more I immerse myself in it, the more my reality starts to blur. I feel like I’m standing in two worlds at once, my hands in one, my mind in the other. And that’s where the dizziness sets in.
It’s like the buzz after too many drinks. The lightheaded sway. The slight disconnect between body and mind. Reality feels just a little off-center, like I’ve had a shot of something strong, but I don’t remember drinking.
The Side Effects of an Unreal World
Just like drinking, too much immersion in VR, even as a creator, comes with side effects.
Dizziness. That strange, floating sensation, like stepping off a boat after hours at sea.
Disorientation. The feeling of not quite being in your body, even after you put the screen away.
Detachment. Like your real world is just a waiting room for the digital one.
Fatigue. Not just physical but mental. Like your brain is processing too much at once.
It’s a hangover without the party, just the headache, the unease, the weird sense that you weren’t fully present in your own life for a little while.
Breaking the Cycle
If VR or any kind of digital immersion starts feeling like an addiction you never meant to have, here’s what helps.
Ground yourself. Touch something real, paper, plants, anything that reminds you where you actually exist.
Create outside of screens. Sketch by hand, write things down, disconnect.
Take breaks, real ones. Not let me scroll my phone breaks but actual offline moments.
Get outside. Fresh air resets your brain in ways technology never can.
Set limits. If creating VR art leaves you drained, give yourself time to fully return before jumping back in.
More nature, less neon. The best cure for digital detachment is trees, fresh air, a reminder that reality is still beautiful.
When Art Feels Like a Dr*g
I don’t play in VR, but I create in it. And sometimes, that’s enough to make me feel like I’ve been drinking something too strong, too often.
It’s an odd feeling to be addicted to something you don’t even use the way it was intended. But maybe that’s the power of digital art. It pulls you in, rewires your senses, and makes you question which world you truly belong to.
And maybe, just maybe, the trick isn’t to avoid it. It’s to hold onto reality just tight enough that you don’t lose yourself in the spaces you create.
