Conversations about loneliness often conjure up images of elderly people, especially during festive seasons when families gather and the world seems to brim with togetherness. But behind the scenes, a different demographic is quietly carrying the heaviest burden of isolation: young adults. Recent research and personal stories reveal that, contrary to popular belief, it’s the younger generations who are reporting the highest levels of loneliness, both in Britain and across the globe.
Adam Becket’s story is a case in point. On a chilly October evening in 2021, 26-year-old Adam found himself wandering the bustling streets of Bristol, a city he’d moved to only a year earlier for work. The city was alive with Halloween revelers—costumed partygoers, friends laughing outside pubs, and crowds weaving between shops. Yet, Adam felt like he was on the outside looking in. “I wasn’t alone all the time, but […] I was a bit of an outsider,” he recalled to BBC. “All the pubs were full. It just [felt] like a different world that you’re not part of. And you feel like you can never be part of it.”
This sense of exclusion is not unique to Adam. According to the Office for National Statistics (ONS), 33% of Britons aged 16 to 29 reported feeling lonely “often, always or some of the time” in research published in December 2025. That’s nearly double the rate reported by those over 70, just 17%. This trend isn’t limited to the UK. A 2024 review by the World Health Organization (WHO) found that young adults and adolescents consistently report the highest levels of loneliness across multiple countries.
The data, though, is nuanced. While some studies suggest that loneliness can surge again among the very oldest—those over 85, potentially matching the rates seen among 18-to-30-year-olds—most research identifies young adults as a particularly isolated group. “Adults between 18 and 24 are the most lonely—followed by older people,” Professor Andrea Wigfield, director of the Centre for Loneliness Studies at Sheffield Hallam University, told BBC. “It’s a growing problem.”
So, what’s behind this unexpected epidemic of loneliness among the young? Experts point to a combination of modern life’s shifting landscape and age-old transitions. Many twenty-somethings now live in shared houses with people they barely know or don’t particularly like. Work is increasingly done from home, and social interactions are often relegated to the digital realm. While the internet makes it possible to maintain friendships across continents, it also means that face-to-face connections can be few and far between. The image of young adulthood as a carefree, socially vibrant time—popularized by sitcoms like Friends—is, for many, more fantasy than reality.
“We tend to romanticise young adulthood as a carefree time—when it’s usually the most miserable time in people’s lives,” said Professor Richard Weissbourd, a lecturer in education at Harvard University, in an interview with BBC. The underlying reason? Instability. Early adulthood is a period marked by transitions: leaving the family home, moving cities for work or study, and watching as friends scatter to different corners of the world. “A big problem is the scattering—everybody you ever knew now lives in a million different places,” explained Dr Meg Jay, a clinical psychologist and author of The Twenty-Something Treatment.
Adam Becket experienced this firsthand. After moving to Bristol, he found himself starting from scratch, unsure how to build new friendships. “Not only did I not know anyone, I didn’t know where to start meeting people either,” he said. “You can’t just go up to someone and be like, ‘Can I join in this fun?’ It’s easy to spiral into self-doubt and self-flagellation—‘I’m clearly not interesting or cool, or the right kind of person.’”
Some solace came when Adam joined running and cycling clubs, meeting people he “clicked with.” But, as he admitted, the feeling of loneliness still ebbs and flows. For others, like Zeyneb, 23, who lives alone in Cheltenham, the struggle is compounded by physical distance from family and limited opportunities for meaningful social contact. “It does feel cripplingly lonely when everyone has their own thing to do,” she shared. She craved what psychologists call a “third place”—a neutral social setting like a park or library—but found few options. Even her gym, she noted, was filled with people lost in their own worlds, headphones on, eyes averted.
Modern trends have only deepened the rift. The average age of first marriage in the UK is now 31, up from 23 for men and 21 for women in 1970, according to the ONS. Fewer young adults are forming families in their twenties, making them more reliant on friendships for emotional connection. But if those friendships falter—or never form in the first place—loneliness can quickly take hold.
There’s also the so-called “Bowling Alone” effect, named after political scientist Robert Putnam’s influential essay. Membership in civic institutions—churches, clubs, unions—has plummeted since the 1970s, eroding the communal fabric that once anchored young adults. As Professor Weissbourd put it, “We live in an increasingly individualistic society. I think loneliness is a symptom of our failure to care for each other.”
Paradoxically, even living with others doesn’t always stave off loneliness. Only 5% of people in their early twenties in England and Wales live alone, compared to 49% of over-85s, the ONS found. But as Dr Jay observed, “Some of my most pitiful memories of my 20s were being stuck living with people that I didn’t like. If I was having a hard time, they didn’t care, they were too wrapped up in themselves.” An emotionally distant flatmate, she argued, can make someone “even more lonely” than living solo.
Technology, too, is a double-edged sword. Young adults spend more time online than any other age group—an average of six hours and 20 minutes daily for 18-to-24-year-olds, according to Ofcom. While social media can foster connections, it also amplifies feelings of exclusion. Dr Jay called this the “compare and despair” factor: “You feel like, ‘Everybody seems to have best friends and they’re all skydiving in Dubai—what’s wrong with me, I didn’t see anyone all weekend.’”
Some experts suggest that young adults may simply be more comfortable articulating their feelings of loneliness, skewing survey results. But Professor Wigfield believes the phenomenon is real, not just a statistical illusion. Chronic loneliness, she warned, is linked to inflammation and increases the risk of cardiovascular disease and dementia later in life.
Efforts to address the crisis are underway, if uneven. The NHS has invested in “social prescribing,” connecting patients with community activities like art classes or gardening. Over a million people were referred to such services in 2023. Yet, Professor Wigfield cautioned, “It really is a lottery in terms of where you live [and] whether the GP has knowledge of local services.”
Grassroots solutions are emerging, too. After his own experience, David Gradon started The Great Friendship Project, a non-profit running social events for young adults in London. “Everyone’s in that same boat. And actually, that brings down barriers. Because you know you’re not going to be judged,” he explained to BBC.
For some, the antidote to loneliness comes in unexpected forms—a running club, a community walk, or even a cuddly black cat named Olive. As society begins to reckon with the reality that loneliness is not just an affliction of old age, but a defining challenge for the young, the hope is that new solutions and greater understanding will follow.