Lonely Hearts

by Pablo Virgilio Cardinal David

Punch and its a plush orangutan toy | Photo by @nekogomie

A small story went viral recently — a baby macaque rejected by its own kind, clinging to a stuffed toy as if it were its mother. Many who saw it felt an unexpected ache in the heart. Why? Perhaps because, in that fragile creature, we recognize something deeply human.

Who among us has not known what it means to feel excluded, misunderstood, or left behind? And in a world where relationships can be fragile, many turn — even if quietly — to substitutes: a virtual companion, a chatbot, a digital presence that listens without judgment. Hindi man totoong tao, may kausap ka. May nakikinig. (Even if it’s not a real person, you have someone to talk to. Someone is listening.)

It reminds me of the song Eleanor Rigby by The Beatles, written mainly by Paul McCartney (and credited to Lennon–McCartney). It speaks of lonely lives — Eleanor Rigby who “lives in a dream and waits by the window,” and Father McKenzie “writing the words of a sermon that no one will hear.” And the haunting refrain: “All the lonely people, where do they all belong?”

Perhaps that is the deeper question behind the viral story — not just about a monkey and a toy, but about us. Where do the lonely belong? And who will notice them, listen to them, and love them not as substitutes — but as real persons worthy of presence and care?