We do not live alone.

This does not simply mean that we need to cooperate with others in order to work, survive, or manage daily life.

From childhood into adulthood, human beings continue to seek psychological relationships with others.

Family.
Friends.
Teachers and classmates.
Romantic partners.
Supervisors and colleagues.

As we live within these many relationships, we cannot help but be aware of how others see us.

Am I being recognized?
Am I needed?
Am I useful to someone?
Am I allowed to be here?

These feelings become part of the foundation of our self-worth.

Self-worth is often treated as something that exists entirely inside the individual.

As if we simply need to believe in ourselves.
As if we only need to raise our self-esteem.
As if the problem begins and ends within our own mind.

But perhaps our sense of worth has never been purely internal.

The expectations of important others.
Positive attention directed toward us.
The sense that our presence is accepted.

Supported by these things, we gradually form trust in our own existence.

And for us, “society” is also an important other whose expectations and evaluations we cannot ignore.

We belong to society.
We live within society.

That is why we care about how society sees us.
We wonder what kind of place we have within it.
We wonder whether our existence has meaning there.

But society is not an other that stands before us in the same way a parent or a friend does.

A parent, a friend, or a romantic partner has a face.
They have words.
They give us concrete reactions.

Even with supervisors or colleagues, we may directly sense their evaluations or attitudes.

But society itself does not stand in front of us and tell us what it thinks.

And yet, we still care about society’s evaluation.

Social morality.
Social status.
Social ideas of success and failure.
Trends.
Respectability.

We keep our attention tuned to these things every day.

“This is what normal people are supposed to do.”
“I should be able to do at least this much.”
“If I stay like this, I may not be valued.”
“Do I really have a meaningful place in society?”

With these thoughts in mind, we make choices in daily life.

So where does society exist?

Is it in companies and schools?
Is it in the streets?
Is it in television, newspapers, and books?
Is it in large systems such as institutions and the economy?

Of course, we find parts of society in all of these places.

But none of them reflects society in its entirety.

We are influenced by companies, schools, media, institutions, the reactions of people around us, and our past experiences.

Through these influences, each of us forms our own image of society.

In other words, the society we experience in daily life is not only an external system.

It also exists inside each of us.

We often imagine society as something large and distant from ourselves.

Society is somewhere outside us, and we are simply participating in it.
Society is a vast system, and we are only one small part of it.

It can feel that way.

But in reality, we live each day sensing the social gaze we have created within ourselves.

No one directly tells us anything, yet we feel anxious.
No one blames us, yet we feel as though we are falling behind.
Nothing has clearly gone wrong, yet we wonder whether we can continue like this.

That is because the gaze of society has already entered us.

And this image of society differs from person to person.

For one person, society may be something that evaluates people by education or occupation.

For another, society may be something that assumes marriage and family as the natural path.

For someone else, society may be something in which value is determined by income, title, or visibility.

For another person, the most important standard may be not causing trouble, or fitting in with those around them.

Even when we appear to live in the same society, each of us carries a different society inside our mind.

That is why people can feel differently about themselves even when they are in similar circumstances.

Two people may do the same work.

One may feel, “I am contributing properly.”
Another may feel, “This is not enough to be valued.”

Two people may live similar lives.

One may feel, “This is enough.”
Another may feel, “This is still far from enough.”

This is not simply a matter of ability.

We do not feel our own worth entirely alone.

We confirm our trust in our own existence through the evaluations and reactions of others.

Society also functions as one of those others.

But society does not have a clear face.

That is why there is no absolute answer to what society expects from us, or what exactly makes a person worthy of being valued.

Each of us forms an image of society through our own experiences and environment.

And through the standards of that image, we try to measure our own worth.

Am I being recognized?
Am I needed?
Am I allowed to be here?

The ease or difficulty with which a person can feel self-worth is deeply connected to these questions.

So there is no need to immediately blame yourself for struggling to feel worthy.

It does not necessarily mean that you are weak.
It does not necessarily mean that you are not trying hard enough.
It does not necessarily mean that something is missing in you.

But there is one important problem.

In modern society, it has become increasingly difficult to feel where we stand within society.

Many of us find it hard to sense what meaning our existence has within society.

We also find it difficult to see what society expects from us.

This seems to be a key reason why self-esteem is gradually eroding.

So why is it so difficult to feel that our existence is reaching society, even though we live within it, in modern society?

In the next essay, I would like to explore the historical and social background behind this problem.

Part of the series: Correctness Without Contact

You work.

You fulfill your role.

You are probably helping someone, somewhere.

And yet, the face of that “someone” is often invisible.

You may know, in your head, that your work matters.
You may know that your efforts support someone’s life, some organization, some part of society.

But knowing it is not the same as feeling it.

The problem is not that we are completely disconnected from society.
The problem is that our connection to society has become too distant, too abstract, and too difficult to feel.

This is one of the quiet conditions of modern life.

We participate in society every day.
We work, communicate, consume, produce, respond, adjust, and contribute.

But the more complex society becomes, the harder it becomes to feel where our existence is actually received.

Who is helped by what I do?
Where does my effort arrive?
In what way am I needed?

These questions are not always dramatic.
They often remain vague and wordless.

But when the answer cannot be felt, a strange loneliness begins to appear.

It is not the loneliness of being rejected.
It is not the loneliness of having no one around.

It is the loneliness of being inside society, yet feeling as if society does not touch you back.

You are there.
You are functioning.
You are doing what you are supposed to do.

But your presence feels strangely transparent.

No one has denied you.
No one has pushed you away.
No one has clearly said that you do not belong.

And still, somewhere deep inside, you may feel as if your existence is not really reaching anyone.

This is why modern emptiness is so difficult to explain.

It does not always come from failure.
It does not always come from isolation.
It can appear even when life seems normal.

You may have a job.
You may have friends.
You may be responsible.
You may be doing everything right.

And yet, something remains untouched.

When people cannot feel that their existence is received by society, they often try to make their existence more visible.

They try to become known.

They try to earn more money.

They try to gain status, credentials, or social recognition.

They try to increase their followers, likes, views, and influence.

On the surface, these may look like ambition.

And of course, ambition itself is not wrong.

It is not wrong to grow.
It is not wrong to achieve.
It is not wrong to want one’s work to reach more people.

But sometimes, beneath that desire, there is a quieter fear.

If I do not become more visible, will I disappear?

If I do not achieve more, will I matter?

If I am not above others in some way, will society notice me at all?

This is where we may be misunderstanding ourselves.

Perhaps people are not always trying to stand above others simply because they want superiority.

Perhaps, at a deeper level, they want to feel that they belong to society.

They want to feel that their existence has a place.

They want to feel that what they do reaches someone.

They want the assurance that they are not invisible.

If that is true, then the real problem is not simply a lack of self-improvement.

The real problem is that society has become too distant to provide a felt sense of belonging.

We do not necessarily need to keep proving our existence by becoming more exceptional.

We do not need to become superior to others in order to deserve a place.

We do not need to be famous, wealthy, admired, or constantly visible in order to exist within society.

In truth, we are already part of society.

We are supported by others.
We support others.
We live inside countless relationships, systems, and exchanges.

And yet, this connection has become difficult to feel.

That is the problem.

We are connected, but the connection lacks contact.

We contribute, but the recipient is invisible.

We belong, but belonging does not return to us as a felt experience.

This may be one reason why doing everything right can still feel empty.

The pain does not necessarily mean that we are weak.
It does not necessarily mean that we have failed.
It may mean that the structure of modern society makes it difficult for people to feel their own place within it.

So the question is not only:

Am I valuable?

The deeper question may be:

Why has the social ground of value become so hard to feel?

Why has society become so distant?

We live inside society.
But we often cannot touch it.

We are connected to others.
But we often cannot feel where that connection is.

We are useful to someone.
But that someone remains unseen.

Where, then, is society?

Is it in the workplace?
Is it in school?
Is it in local communities?
Is it on social media?
Or is it something larger, more abstract, and more difficult to locate?

In the next essay, I want to explore that question.

Where is society, and why has it become so hard to feel?

Part of the series: Correctness Without Contact

Modern life has quietly produced a condition we rarely name.

I call it Correctness Without Contact.

It describes a state in which we are evaluated, optimized, and measured — 
yet rarely felt.

At the end of the day, nothing has gone wrong.

You followed the rules.
You completed your tasks.
You avoided major mistakes.
You fulfilled your role responsibly.

By most standards, you did everything right.

And yet, in the quiet of your room,
there is a faint sense of distance.

Not failure.
Not crisis.
Just an absence of contact.

You participated in society.
But it does not feel as though society moved back toward you.

When this feeling appears, the first instinct is often self-doubt.

Maybe I did not try hard enough.
Maybe confident people push further.
Maybe I lack ambition.

The modern script is clear:

If you feel empty, you must not be striving enough.

So the gap becomes personal.

But strive toward what?

More productivity?
More visibility?
More distinction?

The target feels abstract.
The effort intensifies.
The contact does not.

This is where structure matters.

Modern systems are remarkably efficient at evaluation.

They measure performance.
They reward visibility.
They track contribution.

But they do not necessarily create reciprocity.

They confirm output.
They do not always confirm presence.

You may be seen as performance — 
without being received as a person.

This distinction matters.

Because what we often call “self-confidence” may not simply be an inner trait.

It may also be the felt assurance that one’s presence is acknowledged within a relational field.

A person does not feel stable only because they have achieved something.
They feel stable when their existence is somehow received, reflected, and held in relation to others.

When systems prioritize measurable performance over relational presence,
that assurance becomes fragile.

The emptiness that appears at night may not signal inadequacy.

It may signal a structural imbalance.

Correctness has been rewarded.
Contact has not been returned.

If so, the question is no longer:

“Why am I not enough?”

But rather:

“What kind of recognition have we replaced — 
and what has that replacement cost us?”

This series begins from that question.

Not from the idea that people today are simply weaker, lonelier, or less resilient.

But from the possibility that modern society has changed the way people are recognized.

We are more connected than ever.
We are more visible than ever.
We are more measurable than ever.

And yet, many people still feel untouched.

That contradiction is where we need to begin.

Part of the series: Correctness Without Contact

When people often tell me I’m kind, I sometimes feel a sense of discomfort in my heart.
It’s not because I’m kind, but because I’m actually just weak.
I don’t want to cause trouble.
I don’t want to be disliked.
I’m afraid of ruining the atmosphere.
So I go along with the other person, swallow my words, and put myself on the back burner.
When they call this “kindness,” I feel somehow uncomfortable.
To me, these actions were meant to protect myself, rather than for the other person’s sake.

We often think of kindness as “something we do for others.”
But in reality, much kindness is like a way of adjusting that we’ve acquired to survive in relationships.
Avoiding conflict.
Not ruining relationships.
Maintaining the atmosphere.
These are certainly choices made to avoid hurting someone else.
At the same time, they are also choices made to avoid getting hurt ourselves.
That’s why thoughts like, “I’m not really a good person,” may begin to cross my mind.

No one is willing to break ties with others and live alone.
Everyone worries about what others think of them, and lives their life while being careful to protect their connections with others and their own position.
If this anxiety about connections with others can be called “weakness,” then all people interact with others while harboring weaknesses in their hearts.
A “weak self” is not a “bad self.”
The problem begins only when kindness becomes tied to forcing ourselves.
Wanting to say no, but not being able to.
Smiling even though you’re actually tired.
Pretending to understand even though you don’t.
When this state of affairs continues, kindness gradually becomes a burden.
The more you try to be kind, the more you are worn down.
I think that feeling creates the feeling that “this isn’t true kindness.”

Perhaps true kindness is kindness that doesn’t force itself. Before doing something for someone else, make sure you’re not broken.
Your feelings haven’t been completely left behind.
When that balance is protected, kindness does not leave behind exhaustion.

Kindness is not something that should require effortful performance.

It is neither forced strength nor indulgent self-leniency.

True kindness is what lasts the longest.
It is what remains with us.

There is no single correct shape for it.

Within relationships, it slowly changes form, leaving enough space for us to breathe.

What we once thought was “kindness born from weakness” may, seen from another angle, have been our own way of protecting ourselves while still trying to stay connected to others.

Before we realize it, many of us are constantly aware of how others see us.
What did they think of what I said?
Did my comment come across the wrong way?
After posting something on social media, when the response is smaller than expected, a quiet uneasiness rises in our chest.

This kind of experience is probably familiar to most people.

And then, we often turn that discomfort inward.
“Why do I care so much?”
“Why am I this weak?”
“If only I were more confident, life would be easier.”

At the same time, we notice people who seem completely unaffected by others’ opinions.
They appear to act confidently, guided by their own values, unconcerned with evaluation or approval.
We may admire them — and yet feel a distance, as if they belong to a different world.

Eventually, many of us arrive at the same conclusion:
“I don’t have a strong sense of self.”
“That’s why I’m so easily shaken by what others think.”

But is that really true?
Is caring about others’ opinions simply a sign of weakness?
Is lacking a firm inner core something we should blame ourselves for?

Let’s pause here and consider something more fundamental.
Is a human being truly capable of forming a sense of self entirely on their own?

From the moment we are born, we depend on others.
We are cared for, spoken to, and watched over.
Through words and actions, we receive messages such as:
“You belong here.”
“You matter.”

By receiving these messages repeatedly, we slowly form an understanding of who we are.
In other words, our sense of self has always developed within relationships.
Comparing ourselves to others and being sensitive to evaluation were not originally flaws — they were essential processes that helped us build confidence and identity.

That is why there is no need to reject the part of you that cares about others’ opinions.
Being sensitive to evaluation does not mean you are weak.
It often means you are trying, consciously or unconsciously, to grow while remaining connected to the world around you.

Most people carry a quiet sense of uncertainty.
A feeling that something is missing.
A lack of clarity about where they are heading.

Even those who appear confident on the surface often hold unspoken doubts beneath.
This is not merely a personal issue — it is deeply connected to the structure of modern society.

In modern society, our shared sense of values has become increasingly unclear.
What is valued?
What counts as success?
What kind of life is considered meaningful?

When these standards become unclear, people naturally grow anxious.
As a result, we begin to rely on simple, visible indicators:
numbers, titles, credentials, likes, reactions.

These measures temporarily reassure us of our worth.
But they also create new anxiety — the need for more recognition, more validation.
When society’s axis becomes unstable, our inner axis tends to shake as well.

This is not a personal failure.
It is a natural response to the world we live in.

Feeling uncertain about your sense of self does not mean you are weak.
It may instead reflect your desire to stay connected — to others, and to society itself.

Income, career, education, appearance, lifestyle.
Before we realize it, we find ourselves comparing our lives to others.

We don’t only compare ourselves.
Sometimes, we even compare our family members or close friends to those around us.

We know, at least intellectually, that “we shouldn’t compare ourselves to others.”
And yet, our attention naturally turns outward.
Books about positive living and self-esteem repeatedly tell us,
“Stop comparing yourself to others.”
Still, comparison happens almost unconsciously.

When we compare ourselves and feel discouraged, anxious, or inferior,
we may end up blaming ourselves:
“Here I go again, comparing myself.”

But why do we compare ourselves to others so deeply in the first place?
Is comparison really a sign of weakness or something inherently negative?
Or is it a much more natural response built into the human heart?

If we look back, we have been comparing ourselves since childhood.
We compared ourselves with siblings at home,
with classmates in kindergarten and school.
Through those ups and downs,
we were trying to understand who we were.

Human beings cannot determine their own value entirely on their own.
That is why, through comparison with others,
we have tried to sense our own worth.

We cannot help but care about our value.
This is because humans are beings who seek a place where they belong.
“Am I allowed to be here?”
“Does this place need me?”
In order to feel this sense of belonging,
we have relied on comparison.

What people truly seek, then, is not superiority over others.
At the deepest level, what we long for is a sense of belonging.

Human beings cannot live alone.
From the moment we are born, we depend on others for survival.
This does not change as we grow older.

As children, we needed a place to belong — at home and at school.
When we feel needed and accepted by others,
we experience a deep sense of safety.
That feeling becomes the foundation of what we call
“fulfillment” and “happiness.”

However, once we enter society,
companies prioritize profit,
and workplaces often emphasize evaluation and promotion.
In environments where everyone is focused on their own survival,
it becomes increasingly difficult to find a place where we feel safe.

Originally, people found the sense of “I belong here”
within relationships of mutual support.
But in environments where self-interest takes priority,
it becomes easy to lose the feeling of being valued — 
and even to lose sight of one’s own worth.

As a result, people begin to rely on external forms of value.
Education, income, job titles, luxury cars, physical attractiveness — 
these become substitutes used to prove one’s worth.

But true value is the feeling that
“I am someone who deserves to be treated with care.”
This sense of value is meant to grow
within relationships where we support others
and are supported in return.

Please remember that what truly matters is each individual’s existence — 
that you yourself already have value.
When people care for one another and support one another,
they become a place of belonging for each other.
Education, age, and income have nothing to do with it.

You, too, can become a place of belonging for someone else.
When you begin to feel this way,
the habit of comparing yourself to others — 
and the feelings of inferiority that come with it — 
will gradually begin to lose their power.

Many people wish they had more confidence.

They read self-help books, listen to successful people, and try to imitate habits said to build confidence.

Confidence is often treated as something we should have — as if becoming a proper adult requires it.

But what is confidence, really?

It is commonly understood as something rooted in competence.

If we succeed repeatedly, outperform others, and gain status or wealth, we are expected to feel confident.

From this perspective, lacking confidence appears to be a personal failure — a sign that we simply haven’t tried hard enough.

But reality tells a different story.

There are many people who are highly capable, accomplished, and financially stable, yet still lack confidence.
At the same time, there are people who appear confident without any clear basis.

If confidence were truly determined by ability alone, this difference would be difficult to explain.

So confidence cannot simply be the feeling of being better than others.

Then how does confidence actually form?

The word confidence comes from the Latin confidere, which means “to trust.”

This trust is directed not only toward oneself, but also toward others.

Because trust in oneself cannot arise without trust in others.

Children naturally develop confidence simply by being surrounded by people who accept them.

At the core of confidence lies the feeling, “I am allowed to be here.”
Through the presence of trustworthy others, a person comes to trust their own existence.

In this sense, confidence may be closer to a feeling of security than to a sense of competence.

Striving to be better than others, to be highly regarded, or to be recognized may be an indirect attempt to feel safe.
In other words, we may be using a sense of competence as a substitute for acceptance by others.

What truly supports the human heart is the presence of people who understand us, and places where we are accepted as we are.

Even when we fail.
Even when we feel anxious.
Even when we are lost.

Being met with the message, “You are okay as you are,” gradually allows us to accept ourselves.

Seen this way, the idea that we must have confidence begins to feel strange.

Placing such pressure on ourselves sends an unspoken message:

“I am not enough as I am.”
“I do not yet have value.”

Rather than building trust in ourselves, this mindset quietly erodes it.

To be honest, confidence is not something we possess permanently.

The future is never fully predictable.

No matter how much we prepare, uncertainty remains.

Sometimes we succeed.
Sometimes we fail.
Anxiety does not disappear simply because we try harder.

In reality, everyone carries some degree of insecurity.
Even those who appear confident or composed are often unsettled inside.

If confidence is a form of security, then perfection is not required.

Rather, it’s about accepting your lack of confidence, not being ashamed of it.

That means being confident about your lack of confidence.

Confidence is the ability to live while gently embracing uncertainty.

And it’s the ability to embrace that inner self and look forward, even when your heart is wavering.

Why is it so difficult for us to be satisfied with our current situation?

A stable job and income, friends and a partner, a home and a car…
We believe that obtaining these things will make us happy, and we work hard to achieve them. But in reality, we often feel unfulfilled even after achieving our goals, or after a while, we find ourselves feeling a new lack.

Many people are healthy and comfortable in their lives, yet they are consumed by anxiety and feel a sense of “emotional dissatisfaction.”

Strangely enough, this feeling can also come upon people who are socially successful and financially well-off, and are the objects of envy.

When can a person achieve a stable sense of emotional fulfillment and become “happy”?

Let’s take a moment to think back to the earliest state of the human mind.

A small child doesn’t think about money, future success, or social status. They simply feel secure, fulfilled, and immersed in a sense of fulfilment through their interactions with those who care for them.

When we were children, we didn’t need more money than we needed, or status, or fame, or brand-name products. We were able to be satisfied with the present without these things. It seemed that the conditions for happiness were met just by having someone who loved us. That alone made us feel like we had value.

This fact contains some very important implications.

As we grow into adults, the conditions for happiness become more complex.

Educational background, income, company rank, social success, fame…

Before we know it, we believe these indicators are the yardstick for measuring happiness, and we strive hard to pursue them amid expectations and pressure.

In modern society, the conditions for happiness are often the subject of comparison.

Based on the indicators listed above, we see who is more successful, who is better, and so on. We unconsciously begin to compare and compete with others.

If a stable sense of satisfaction is based on the idea that we must be better than someone else, or that we are inferior to someone else, then it will always be unstable and fluctuate, with no sense of stability.
However, what the heart truly seeks is not necessarily superiority.
Surely there must be a kind of peace of mind that exists outside of comparison.

So how can we become happy?
It is difficult to give a clear answer to the question of “happiness.” Not only that, but it can also be dangerous to present a clear answer about happiness.

This is because, until now, we have been forced to accept the correct answer to what happiness is.
How people should be.
This is what human satisfaction is.
Because these ideas have been forced upon us without us even realizing it, we have begun to seek the conditions for happiness outside of ourselves and to compete with others.

There may be no final answer to the question, “What is happiness?”
However, simply exploring this question in your own way should free you from the tension and anxiety you have felt up until now and lighten your heart.
It is precisely because there is no clear definition that happiness can be experienced more freely and in its own unique way.

There is no contradiction between “not providing a clear answer about human happiness” and “understanding the essence of human happiness.”

Until now, we have been driven by the desire to be happy, pursuing the correct definition of happiness that has been imposed upon us. However, I believe that happiness emerges from the way people live their lives.

Thinking about happiness is not just an internal issue.
It naturally leads to questions about relationships between people, the state of society, and the values ​​we share as we live our lives.
On Medium, I would like to consider these questions little by little from the perspective of how the human mind works, without forcing them into a specific answer.
If this article has provided you with a clue to understanding the cause of your own “dissatisfaction,” freeing you from invisible anxieties and leading to a more comfortable life, then that is its ultimate purpose.

Not every loneliness begins with rejection or loss.

Sometimes, nothing has gone wrong.

You work.
You fulfill your role.
You meet expectations.
You do what you are supposed to do.

And yet, a vague emptiness remains.

It is not easy to name.
It is not the loneliness of being completely alone.
It is the feeling of living inside society,
while somehow not touching it.

I call this condition Correctness Without Contact.

It describes a state in which a person may be functioning well, evaluated properly, and connected on the surface — yet still feel that their presence is not truly received.

For many years, I worked with children in residential care facilities.

Through that experience, I came to believe that human beings are deeply shaped by a basic desire: the desire to be received, cared for, and affirmed by others.

Children express this desire directly.
Adults often express it through work, relationships, achievement, recognition, or social roles.

But beneath these differences, the same structure remains.

Human beings do not only want to succeed.
They want to feel that their presence has a place in the world.

When that sense is missing, anxiety and loneliness can appear even when life seems to be going normally.

This Medium space explores that quiet discomfort.

Why does doing everything right still feel empty?
Why is self-confidence so difficult to sustain?
Why does a materially abundant society still leave many people feeling unseen?

I write about these questions through the relationship between the human mind and social structure.

Modern society measures, evaluates, connects, and organizes us in increasingly complex ways.

And yet, many people still feel untouched.

Visible, but not received.
Connected, but not held.
Evaluated, but not affirmed.

That gap is where modern loneliness begins.

My aim is not to offer easy encouragement.

It is to give language to feelings that are often left unnamed, and to think carefully about the structures that produce them.

If you have ever felt that you are doing nothing wrong,
and yet somehow becoming distant from the world around you,
this space may be a place to begin.

This article is based on the book “The Instinct to Be Loved.”

The desire to be loved by others is fundamental to human beings; it is an instinctive drive that we are born with.

In infancy, the ones who fulfilled this desire for love were primarily our caregivers, especially our parents.
As we grow, passing through the two rebellious stages of development, we begin to move beyond our parents and gradually seek love and affection from others such as friends, opposite sex, and eventually society. (For more details, see Chapter 1.)

However, it is precisely because we possess the desire to be loved that the concept of rivals emerges, leading us to compete in an effort to assert our own existence.

Each “other” toward whom our instinctive desire for love is directed has their own set of rivals.
At times, siblings become rivals as they compete for their parents’ affection; at other times, children of the same age become rivals as they seek friendship — another form of love.

In this way, we are competing with such rivals even before we become adults and join competitive society, and we can say that we improve ourselves by competing with each other.

However, when we engage in rivalry with others, we always do so by following certain rules.
It is not simply a matter of defeating the other person by any means necessary.
For example, winning through fights or making someone cry by saying bad things about them does not count as truly overcoming a rival.

When we compete with these rivals, we are always competing for superiority based on indicators that will attract the attention of “others.”

As mentioned in previous article, when a younger child is born, older children often regress to babyhood.
This occurs because the older child sees the younger sibling as a rival in the competition for their parents’ affection.
In this case, the competition is taking place precisely based on the standard of “childishness.”

When collecting card games or beetles (such as rhinoceros beetles) becomes popular among elementary school children, these items serve as important indicators for attracting the attention of their peers.

As a result, children do not collect cards or beetles purely out of personal interest or enjoyment. Instead, they focus on gathering more than their peers. This is because, by demonstrating their superiority in such a way, they can draw the attention and interest of children their own age.

In this way, whether consciously or unconsciously, when people compete for the attention of someone they seek love from, they inevitably do so based on certain indicators that are likely to attract that person’s attention.

Appearance, personality, wealth, academic performance, athletic ability — people often feel joy or frustration depending on how they compare to others in these areas.
This is because such traits serve as important indicators for gaining the attention of others from whom they instinctively seek love — be it parents, romantic interests, friends, or society.

People do not feel a sense of superiority simply because their ears are larger or their voice is louder than someone else’s.
This is because such traits are not effective in attracting the attention of those from whom they seek love.
As a result, people do not engage in competition based on these kinds of indicators.

From the moment we are born, we have an instinct to want to be loved, and this instinctive desire makes us unable to help but be strongly conscious of others. This also leads us to become keenly aware of our rivals and to compare ourselves with others.

At times, such comparisons may give rise to feelings of superiority, while at other times they may bring about jealousy or inferiority.
All of these emotions stem from our fundamental desire to be loved.
In this way, we end up competing with our rivals in an effort to move closer to the center of others’ attention.

People find great joy in receiving affection from others. This means that people will devote a lot of time and energy to satisfying their need for love.

What people seek, and what brings them a sense of fulfillment, is largely rooted in this desire for love.
Indeed, it is this emotional drive that weaves the fabric of our lives.

When it comes to understanding human nature, tracing the movements of the heart through the lens of our desire for love provides a powerful clue to reaching its core.
This perspective not only deepens our understanding of individual psychology, but also sheds light on the essence of human history and economics — revealing truths that have long remained hidden.

Furthermore, many of the social problems created by humanity can also be understood through the lens of how the desire for love takes shape.
By doing so, we can begin to envision an ideal society — one that is rooted in the very essence of what it means to be human.

From “The Instinct to be Loved”

~ For everyone and everywhere ~