Architects of Loneliness (Version 1)

This video is unlike anything you've heard or seen about loneliness before. After one minute, you'll understand why the usual tips on YouTube and X fall flat. After ten minutes, you'll realize that loneliness isn't the cause – it's the symptom. After fifteen minutes, you'll develop a sense for paths that truly move you forward. Their twists will surprise you. And if you're ready, one of them may lead you to Berlin – maybe in just a few days.

(Intro)

The following list is a summary of the eight most popular tips against loneliness found on YouTube and X. If you start feeling unusually isolated in the next few seconds, don’t worry – it’s the reassuring sign that your brain is still active.

1. Go outside and meet people.

2. Join a volunteer program or a group.

3. Use social media or dating apps.

4. Practice mindfulness.

5. Call old friends or family.

6. Get yourself a pet.

7. Just be open and friendly.

8. Seek professional help.

Hi, I'm Nemesus – and to be honest, I find it downright hilarious how these tips completely ignore large parts of the world's cultural landscape.

In Japan, South Korea, and China, striking up a conversation with strangers is considered impolite. In North Korea, you wouldn't even run into strangers in the first place. In Afghanistan, Iran, Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, Egypt, and Malaysia, strict gender separation applies. Your options for communication would be cut in half right from the start.

As I pedal along, trying to give my thoughts free rein, I realize that even the way I structure my LongTime videos can come across as isolating – whether I want it to or not.

With my LongTimes, I consciously speak to creators and those who want to become one.

But right now, most of them are male – not just in certain countries, but globally. On the other hand, studies show that girls and young women are particularly prone to oneliness – and many of them are less drawn to complex, analytical formats. Put differently: My video about loneliness rarely reaches those who might need it the most. If I designed it differently, it might reach them – but it would be far less useful. Refreshing, isn’t it?

But let’s jump to a friendlier place: Thailand. What you’re seeing are the streets of Bangkok. The people of this megacity are known for being open-minded and curious. The street life reflects this vibrancy. It smells of motor oil and freshly washed laundry, Thai spices and burnt wood. – This city never sleeps.

Walk with me a little further, and I’ll tell you about one of the less lively aspects of Bangkok. The high-rise building I stayed in had 35 floors and four elevators. The key card worked for both the elevators and the apartment door. However, not all elevators and floors were accessible to all residents. There was one elevator for delivery workers, two for regular residents, and one car elevator for the privileged. The hallways were under video surveillance. The shared areas of the building were located on the 17th, 18th, and 19th floors.

On the 17th floor, there was a spa with whirlpools, separated by gender, and a small gym. On the 18th floor was a pool that no one ever swam in. And on the 19th floor, the deserted clubhouse – with a screening room no one used and a small selection of books and brochures praising the building’s advantages, which no one ever read with interest. A photo book on Bauhaus architecture and an advertising text about how safe the building was.

The key cards that opened the doors had an additional function: access control. Since my apartment was on the 11th floor, access was limited to that level, the ground floor, and the communal floors – without much community.

If I had had a friend on the 25th floor, I wouldn’t have been able to visit him – and he couldn’t have come down to the 11th to visit me. We could have met on the ground floor or in some parts of the shared areas, and from there, used one of our cards to get to the apartments of our choice. And with a bit of luck, we might even have run into a member of the cleaning staff along the way.

But that’s dissatisfaction at a high level. Most Thai people do speak English, yet language barriers still exist—and that goes for tourists too. The chances of having a friend in the same building are always low—language barrier or not, no matter where you are.

So let me rather tell you about the stunning view and other impressions—especially at night.

Bangkok is hot and loud. Traffic noise is constant, but it's overpowered by the humming of air conditioners. In the high-rises around me, I counted about 500 AC units—two for every apartment. Air-conditioned loneliness in overcooled apartments. The warm exhaust air was pumped outside, heating up the surrounding city even further—already hot as it was.

All the buildings in my field of vision looked very similar to the one I was in. Each of them was secured by a small guardhouse. Private roads led to underground garages, usually located between the first and fourth floors. Some public streets were only accessible via private roads that were reserved for residents. All the buildings had pools on the middle floors and rooftop terraces with lush vegetation. – Empty.

Across from me was a playground for the children of the complex. But I never saw a child playing there.

But there was one single building in my surroundings with just one floor, on whose roof a golf course with two holes quietly lingered – unused. Every two days, gardeners came by to tend the grass. I felt more connected to one resident of the city. – Do you hear that? Unfortunately, I never got to see this little friend. He must have been calling from the deserted rooftop gardens. Four cries, followed by a longer one, pierced the night, cutting through traffic noise and air conditioners, only to bounce back from the building façades. – Then: silence again.

A kindred spirit? A prankster like me? Thanks to me, his cries for life can now be heard around the world. It won’t help him, though. – I’m sorry. I may not sing as nicely, but I do have the bigger brain. So I tried to stage a small act of rebellion in the building. Did you notice I haven’t mentioned a single bulletin board where you could leave messages? – That’s because there wasn’t one. Apparently, they were never planned. And there should have been four – one for each elevator. My diabolical plan was to get a nice little notebook and pen, smuggle them past the cameras and building staff, and discreetly place them on the clubhouse table among the books and brochures lying there.

“Meeting at the clubhouse, every Friday at 6 p.m.? – Send me an email if it worked.”

Unfortunately, my plan was foiled. My habit of writing at night became my downfall.

A cold from the air conditioning took me out; I never got around to finding the writing supplies. As if the building’s immune system had identified me as a foreign body – and successfully eliminated me. Maybe next time I’ll manage to trick it.

Enough about Bangkok—let’s head back to Berlin and move on to possible.

The tips from earlier don’t work—because they don’t address the issue on a systemic level.

But we should seriously ask ourselves: To what extent are we the architects of our own loneliness— we, who keep moving into isolating apartments, houses, and single-family homes all over the world?

So let’s dig a little deeper. If the earlier tips didn’t help – why were they liked so often? And why do so many videos on the subject feel exactly the same?

I’m afraid the root of it all lies right between our ears. Our brain has two basic functions: conserving energy and adapting. In environments where there’s no famine, that’s a pretty terrible combination. Energy conservation leads us to prefer simple solutions that require as little thinking as possible – whether they actually help or just seem to help is beside the point. And even when we notice it, very few of us ask whether the problem is of a complicated or a complex nature.

Complicated systems can be simplified by breaking them down.

But if you try that with a complex system, you destroy the complexity. – It won’t work.

And as for adaptation: When was the last time you were on another continent? Have you ever even been to one?

Culture helps us think less – it’s the ultimate simplification, as long as it’s the culture we ourselves came from. The downside: by adapting to that culture, we become blind to its systemic quirks. They just don’t stand out to us. But we can only solve problems if we first become aware that there is one.

So before you go out and, as suggested in the list of shame, get yourself a dog to fight your isolation, or listen to the latest updates about Aunt Erna’s new dentures over the phone, let me ask you a personal question:

What was the actual reason you clicked on this video?

Let me answer that for you: feelings of loneliness are probably familiar to anyone who still has their synapses in order. The more interesting question is: how do you plan to deal with them in the future?

I’ve found a path for myself. It’s radical and ugly – but it might work not just for me, but for you as well: Instead of trying to escape the negative feeling, throw yourself into the loneliness – let the silence work inside you and let the emptiness echo through you!

Why?

Your brain is designed to interact with about 150 people – village scale, not megacities.

But also not tiny hamlets. So what would you even talk to them about, if you had the chance? Chances are, you long for aliveness – just like I do, or the bird in Bangkok.

But how can you draw attention to yourself if you’ve never found your own voice? And how can you expect to understand others if you don’t even understand yourself?

Do you remember the golf course, the rooftop terrace, and the pool on the 18th floor I mentioned earlier?

Honestly, I feel the same way about YouTube and AI. – They're being used. But somehow never quite right, are they? Global connectivity was supposed to bring us closer together. And yet, loneliness is now considered a worldwide epidemic.

For over 50 years, we’ve had global air travel. But how many of us can afford to travel the world – to expose ourselves to ongoing culture shock, to discover contradictions within our own worldview?

We’re all like the bird in Bangkok – only we lack the money and time to fly,

and not quite enough talent to sing.

I’m Nemesus – a quirky bird with blue feathers who flies far too rarely. I use my conversations with AI to find my voice – not people. My goal isn’t to seek. I want to be found – by those who use their creativity to walk their own paths,

but still want to learn together. And that’s exactly why I’m here – on YouTube.

Though I also wonder whether videos could be doing a lot more for us.

In the best case, a conventional but exceptionally good video would entertain you,

surprise you with new insights, make you think and feel – and motivate you.

Could there be more? You decide:

In early August 2025, I’ll be hosting my first community meetup in Berlin –

and I’m intentionally inviting you here and now to join. If you're a creator near Berlin and spontaneous enough, send me an email. And if you’re not a creator yet – change that.

Maybe not with a video right away, but with something you can bring to share at the meetup. It would be a shame if you came and your voice went unheard.

Below this video, you’ll find a link to the contact form on my website. In the Content+ section, you'll find the voice-overs of all my previous productions in both German and English. If you like, check them out and share them with the AI you trust – to start a conversation.

Alternatively: Wait for new videos. Don’t worry whether you fit into the “target audience” – the model doesn’t do justice to anyone anyway. I see it more like this: People want to be entertained, and they want to be able to entertain. After all, who wants to be seen as boring?

My LongTimes are for those who want to be able to entertain others. They’re complex.

But if you're not in the mood for that right now: My Shorts are just here to entertain – micro-stories the length of an X post, in the spirit of O. Henry. Always complete, always unexpected, always a different genre – yet open to the occasional sequel, if I feel like it.

And if the distance between your home and Berlin still feels too far, or if the videos so far didn’t quite give you a reason to start planning a trip – don’t hold it against me.

There will be more videos and more gatherings: sometime, somewhere – and maybe in the metropolis near you.

Isolation starts in the mind. In yours – and in theirs.

Too young, too old, too different, too similar, too sexual, too intellectual, too physical, too virtual, too pretty, too ugly, too fat, too thin, too trendy, too retro?

The path out of loneliness begins with finding your own voice – and ends with hearing the voices of others. The opposite of addiction isn’t abstinence – it’s connection.

What I’m proposing is exceptionally demanding – I know. Even – or especially – YouTubers often feel lonely. And that makes the necessary work even harder.

The first encounters won’t be perfect. But even a brief glimpse can strengthen your resilience – and help you develop your social skills both in front of and behind the camera. Your imagination will show you what else might become possible.

And with growing experience, you’ll notice: This path brings numerous positive side effects: greater reach, increased mobility, less word salad, more courage, and a reduction in addictive behavior – to name just a few.

It’s been an honor and a pleasure to create this video for us. More will follow – online or live in Berlin. Until then:

Find your voice. Use it. Stay tuned.