“I got my own apartment and everyone was so happy for me. But I sit on the couch at night and the silence is so loud I leave the TV on just to hear another human voice. I had a panic attack last week because I realized if something happened to me, nobody would know for days.”
Your own place. Independence. Freedom. That's the story. The reality is coming home to an empty apartment where nobody asks how your day was, eating every meal alone, and lying awake wondering if this much silence is normal. ILTY can't be a roommate, but it's someone to talk to when the quiet gets heavy and the walls start closing in.
Living alone is sold as a milestone—proof of independence, adulthood, freedom. And it can be all of those things. It can also be terrifying, lonely, and disorienting. The two aren't mutually exclusive. You can love having your own space and also hate the silence. You can value your independence and also dread coming home to an empty apartment.
The adjustment is physical, not just emotional. After years of having another person in your space—roommates, partners, family—your nervous system is calibrated to the sounds and presence of other people. Their absence registers as something wrong. The creaks of an empty apartment at night. The absence of someone else's breathing. The way your voice sounds when you haven't used it in hours. These are real sensory adjustments, not weakness.
And there are the practical fears nobody talks about. What if you choke and no one's there? What if you get sick? What if something breaks? The safety net of another human nearby is gone, and that vulnerability is a legitimate source of anxiety.
•Humans evolved as social creatures who lived in groups—solitude for extended periods is neurologically registered as a threat, which is why the silence can feel actively distressing
•If you went from family home to roommates to a partner, you may have never learned how to be alone, making the transition feel like being dropped into deep water without swimming lessons
•The absence of passive social interaction (a roommate watching TV, a partner cooking) removes background stimulation your brain has come to depend on
•Living alone makes every emotional state more intense—there's no one to modulate your mood, distract you from spiraling, or just share a mundane moment with
When the silence gets heavy and the TV isn't cutting it, ILTY is a conversation. Not background noise—actual engagement with what you're thinking and feeling.
The fears are real. ILTY can help you work through them—what's rational concern and what's anxiety amplifying, and what practical steps might help you feel safer.
There's a difference between loneliness and solitude, and finding the line takes time. ILTY can help you figure out when you need people and when you need quiet.
We want to be honest about our limitations:
Most people report that the initial discomfort eases after 3-6 months as you build new routines and your nervous system adjusts to the quiet. But 'adjusting' looks different for everyone. Some people grow to love it. Others learn to manage it. And some realize they simply don't want to live alone, and that's valid too.
No. It's a common coping mechanism for the silence of living alone, and there's nothing wrong with it. Background noise helps regulate your nervous system. That said, if you can gradually build comfort with some quiet—starting with 30 minutes, then an hour—it can help you develop a healthier relationship with solitude over time. No rush.
Then maybe living alone isn't right for you, and that's completely fine. Not everyone thrives in solitude, and there's no moral achievement in being good at being alone. If after a genuine effort you're still miserable, consider a roommate, moving closer to family or friends, or other living arrangements. Knowing yourself isn't failure.
ILTY is free during beta. It's not therapy. It's not a cure. It's a place to talk through what you're going through—honestly, without judgment, whenever you need it.