Loneliness Can Be Murder

New York is a city that inspires both love and hate. I lived in New York City for four years, and during that time, I encountered countless new immigrants from diverse cultural backgrounds. They arrived full of hope, praising the city, admiring its vibrancy, and taking pride in calling themselves “New Yorkers.” Yet, often, they did not come to New York to embrace and experience its life and culture, but rather to earn a higher salary. They were busy with work, chasing their lofty dreams, but rarely did they pause to appreciate the present. Perhaps it’s because, in an unfamiliar environment, people become timid, or perhaps it’s simply the overwhelming nature of their work that prevents them from exploring the richness of New York’s cultural landscape. In any case, many of them, having grown up in a different culture, felt more comfortable retreating into their own community, clinging to what was familiar, and hesitantly accepting new things.
I, too, was once someone who lived in such a self-imposed bubble. In 2022, I graduated from the Film School at New York University, but in the first two years of college, I wasn’t actually in NYU’s film program —I was pursuing a major I hated. During those years, even though I was living in New York, I refused to make new friends or truly engage with the life around me. I spent almost all my time in the library, preparing my transfer application to the Film School, shutting myself off from everything else. Though I occasionally felt lonely, the hope for a brighter future kept me going. At that time, my mindset was: “I don’t have time to care about anything else. Once I get into the Film School I’ve always wanted, then I’ll experience life and meet new people.”
In the spring of 2020, I was accepted into the Film School at NYU. But at the same time, a global catastrophe—Covid-19—erupted. New York went into lockdown, and schools were closed. I tried to buy a plane ticket to return to my distant homeland, but flights were nearly impossible to find. I was forced to lock myself in my New York apartment for four months. I had spent two years isolating myself for a brighter future, but because of Covid, all my expectations were shattered. Loneliness became a constant companion throughout my college years. I felt a profound sense of emptiness, yet it was within this emptiness that I began to reflect on my approach to life. I realized that I shouldn’t pin my hopes for happiness on some future moment. Instead, I needed to live in the present, to find joy in every single moment.
Inspired by this experience, I created Loneliness Can Be Murder to be my senior thesis project at NYU. In the film, there’s also a global catastrophe unfolding, and the story also centers on characters who have isolated themselves from the world. These characters set out to “escape loneliness,” but at first, the way they try to achieve this goal is by running away from reality—attempting to return to their hometowns and their comfort zones. It isn’t until the end, after stepping out of their comfort zones in unexpected ways, that they achieve their goal: they make new friends and break free from loneliness. Yet, just when they think everything is perfect, a sudden twist plunges them back into the very void they had hoped to escape. I hoped to create a sense of nihilism and fatalism and to remind us that life is always uncertain and full of surprises. No matter how meaningless the ending may seem, or how it may make you laugh and cry, don’t worry too much about what the future holds. Instead, love deeply, and savor every single moment of the present.