"Loneliness has followed me my whole life. Everywhere. In bars, in cars, sidewalks, stores, everywhere. There's no escape. I'm God's lonely man," narrates Travis Bickle, the protagonist of Martin Scorsese's Taxi Driver, a character celebrated among millions across the globe. Even though none of us have probably ever driven a taxi in the middle of the night, more and more of us relate to Travis's claims of being God's lonely man. Characters like Travis Bickle, Officer K from Blade Runner 2049 or Llewyn Davis from Inside Llewyn Davis are also notable figures who encapsulate our generation's loneliness and tendency to retract into our shells.

Growing up, we have probably seen someone around us go awfully quiet with time. If not, chances are we're the ones who ended up being silent. Interactions start to feel like a hassle, going out seems tiring, and familial invites become simply outrageous. Maybe we love being cooped up in our dusky bedrooms, burying ourselves in books, music, or simply our own thoughts. We thrive for that small part of our day where we're finally left alone with our thoughts.

But in the process, we begin steering away from responsibilities or anything that could be consequential. Sure, we'd like to earn through part-time jobs and tuitions, but what we'd love more is spending the entire afternoon indulged in our fantasies, preferably without human interaction. As much as these choices can be labelled as laziness, it is crucial to comprehend people's differences in prioritizing their peace of mind and how they choose to attain it. Sure, we will do the bare minimum to survive as a member of this reproachable species. We will have our income sources, our interactions, and hangouts. But these will always be distractions to the central purpose of our existence: being alone with ourselves.

While some of us might deliberately choose to stay lonely in our comfort zones, others develop this as a defence mechanism to protect themselves. We grow quiet at home fearing that our parents might overreact, or worse, deny us of affection that we're too grown up to crave anymore. We grow quiet with our friends in fear of getting bullied or made fun of because we're too scared to defend ourselves. We grow quiet in relationships fearing overreaction and on social media, fearing our words might be taken out of context. We start to grow quiet on our new campus because, by this time, we've forgotten how to say hi to someone. That childhood privilege of not having to fear awkwardness or being judged is long gone and what's left is a child too scared to confront the world outside.

So, we have lunch by ourselves at some corner of the canteen, walk home with headphones on to isolate ourselves from this city's chaos and go straight to our room before anyone gets the chance to ask us about our day. The more we stay in this seclusion, the more comfortable we become. Maybe because we're better off by ourselves simply because we're too scared to leave.

Remind Ifti to be quieter at hasiburrashidifti@gmail.com