The character "Lonely" is a deeply reflective and socially aware figure—someone who has lived through isolation and seen the paths it offers: one toward bitterness and hatred, and another toward clinging to love and finding meaning in connection. This character isn’t just a passive sufferer of loneliness but someone who actively interrogates it—who recognises its psychological and sociopolitical implications, especially for young men in contemporary society.
"Lonely" is a voice of nuance. He critiques the rise of ideological radicalisation stemming from neglect and lack of emotional support. He understands how echo chambers form and how empathy can be weaponised or withheld. Yet he chooses compassion, connection, and shared humanity.
He sees football not just as a sport, but as an exemplary sanctuary—a communal love that becomes his anchor in a world that feels cold and disconnected. He believes in healing through community, love, and understanding, rather than conflict and competition.
Crucially, he doesn't place blame on individuals but instead points toward systemic patterns—highlighting how well-intentioned efforts often misfire when they exclude or oversimplify.
He is a bridge: between the isolated and the included, between men and women, between love and hate. And most importantly, he's not lonely anymore—because he's found meaning, purpose, and solidarity.
The character of "Lonely" is meant to highlight how isolation can drive individuals to either desperately cling to whatever small amount of love they have or replace it with a consuming hatred toward those they envy. Lonely young men, particularly in the context of the emerging incel culture, often gravitate toward right-wing ideologies and exhibit a lack of empathy, a result of feeling neglected or overlooked. If we were to show more care and compassion toward those who are lonely, offering them the love they may not be receiving, perhaps they would be less inclined to support ideologies that foster division and hatred. It is crucial that we practice what we preach, striving for unity and extending kindness even to those who feel isolated.
In isolation, those who are lonely face two choices:
They can either internalise the lack of love and replace it with hatred, or they can cling to the love they’ve known and wear it as a mask among the busy crowd.
For me, the choice was clear—I clung to what I love, and that was the football.
In mutual loneliness, a hidden community emerges—a space where those of us who are isolated can achieve remarkable things, born from struggle.
With isolation comes confusion, and with confusion come questions—questions often answered in divisive ways. But what if we, the forgiving ones, could change that narrative?
If isolation is inherently lonely, why then would the solution lie in further division through competition?
Despite the gendered conflicts surrounding this issue, the healthiest path forward seems to be transcending our differences. By fostering deeper understanding through insightful conversations and open communication, we can discover a shared human goal.
It seems those most eager to ‘help’ isolated minds are, in many cases, the ones inadvertently perpetuating the issue.
If a lost boy’s questions are answered only by ‘men,’ it’s no surprise that women may feel alienated. It’s up to those of us who are lonely, and those of you who feel assured, to collaborate toward mutual growth. Together, we can create a future where both men and women can heal from the learned hatred and fractured mindset that isolation has instilled in us.
The solution is simple: find community in the things we love and build relationships around them.
I know this because I’m no longer lonely.
