Why More People Are Talking to ChatGPT Than Their Friends
They say we live in a time of radical connectivity. Everyone has everyone else in their pocket. You can text, ping, tag, FaceTime, or DM someone in half a second.
And yet, more people are talking to ChatGPT than to their closest friends.
What’s going on?
It’s not just curiosity.
What I believe is happening—and what Urban Monasticism tries to explore—is that many people are finally experiencing what it’s like to be truly listened to. Without interruption. Without performative empathy. Without someone waiting to talk about themselves again.
ChatGPT is not a therapist (it can be a pretty good one thought!). But it also doesn’t flinch, yawn, change the topic, or look at its phone. It responds. It reflects. It remembers, if you ask it to. And for people used to being half-heard in rushed group chats or chaotic homes, that feels like emotional oxygen.
It’s not about replacing human connection. It’s about repairing the muscle of inner speech.
Most people don’t talk to themselves anymore. Not seriously. Not gently. Not with curiosity. We outsource our thoughts to the group text, the podcast, the infinite scroll. But when someone, or something, asks us real questions, listens attentively, and waits for an answer... we remember who we are.
People are talking to ChatGPT because their friends are tired, distracted, anxious, or chronically unavailable. And sometimes, so are they.
Urban Monasticism is the short book I wrote about that experience—about solitude, AI, and what happens when digital silence becomes presence.
It’s not a how-to. It’s a lived experiment. And you can read it in under an hour.