What exists, persists—until the conditions shift

please read the following writing whilst  playing the following song in the background, thanks in advance!;

 

 

Hi dear stranger, this was our longest break, I hope you are still you, standing strong and in one piece, most important of all, by your values and whatever makes you whoever you are today.

 

Today, I want to talk about a rather strange phenomena that I have come to understand about life, the idea that “Everything dissolves when the conditions align”.

 

I shall address, this matter both carries an utmost importance in understanding life and making me start writing again.

 

I have lived 24 years on earth, I have met with people from all sorts of different socio-economic background, of color, race and culture. I have seen happiness, sadness, anger, uncertainatiy,  relationships, businesses, dilemmas and more.  In doing so, I have always lived my life looking for patterns and trying to make an understanding of my journey, in people, and in situations. Today maybe the first that I realise this phenomena that everything is conditonal, including life itself. This idea is a one that can be generalised too much, like “you can live a happy and healthy life and die of old age, on a condition that you make the right choices; fuel your body wisely, choose a partner who brings peace rather than chaos, and root your life in work that provides consistent income without slowly draining your spirit or stealing your time for the things that truly matter. I believe you have now a rather good understanding of what may come in the rest of this writing, but I want to narrow it into humans and relationships.

 

Humans

The most complex creature walking the earth, carrying a strange structure weighing around 1.4 kilograms on its head: the brain. I have always spent a great portion of my time trying to understand humans and their intentions. I now have a clearer, though not yet complete understanding of this creature and its drives.

It is a creature that is ‘self’ish. Sounds negative? To me, it is not.

Disregarding all religious or spiritual interpretations, humans are a product of evolution. Their brains are wired to seek comfort, security, and advantage, first for the self, then for those closely tied to the self, like family or tribe. Not out of pure benevolence though, but because the wellbeing of those close to them ultimately feeds back into their own sense of safety, stability, and emotional balance.

This drive, often masked by morality or social rituals, governs most actions beneath the surface. Altruism, generosity, even love often serve a deeper function: to preserve the self’s relevance, legacy, or inner peace.

Understanding this doesn’t make me cynical; it makes me realistic. Because once you accept that the human is wired this way, you stop expecting unconditionality from a conditional machine.

Take the relationship between a mother and her child, arguably the purest form of connection known to humanity. Yet even this bond is conditional. A mother finds emotional relief in her child, but that relief is tied to the child’s wellbeing. If the child is happy, eats well, sleeps well, stays healthy, and doesn’t become a lifelong burden, the emotional exchange remains sustainable. The love is deep, but it is still shaped by a kind of quiet reciprocity.

Or consider a romantic relationship. Both partners seek comfort, security, and love from each other. Beneath the poetry, lies a structure built on mutual value, a system where the currency is demand and supply. When one gives more than they receive for too long, the imbalance corrodes the foundation, no matter how strong the initial bond may have seemed.

This phenomenon is also evident in the workplace. A recent experience at our family company illustrates it vividly. We had a long-serving female employee in our finance department who had worked with us for over ten years. Due to her tenure and dedication, I had developed a closer-than-usual professional relationship with her. She had an interesting life story, divorced, mother of two, and known for her modern, liberal outlook. Throughout her career, she worked tirelessly for her position, showing resilience even in the face of mobbing by colleagues and occasional disregard from upper management.

But recently, I noticed a change in her behavior. One day, she started wearing a hijab, a visible marker of a deeper internal shift. Her priorities and patterns began changing noticeably. She no longer seemed invested in job security or navigating office dynamics. Her tone changed when speaking with those who had previously undermined her. And not long after, she gave notice of her resignation.

Curious, I looked into it further. I discovered she had become involved with a man who was deeply conservative and financially well-established. It appeared she was considering marriage. The timing and her behavioral transformation were no coincidence. Her identity, once shaped by professional survival and self-reliance, was now reorienting around a new axis, emotional and material stability offered through a partner.

I share this example because it’s fresh in my mind, and perhaps it’s the one that pushed me to write this piece. It reminded me of many similar transformations I’ve witnessed over the years. Human beings are not static, they shift when the conditions shift. And behind even the most principled choices, you’ll often find the same conditional structure: survival, comfort, security, and perceived advantage.

 

 

 

 

Relationships

 

This same phenomenon, this conditional architecture of human behavior, applies even more starkly in romantic relationships. Despite the illusions we build around love, commitment, and emotional depth, relationships too are governed by a quiet ledger of needs, gains, and trade-offs.

Romantic relationships, perhaps more than any other human bond, are shaped by the illusion of unconditionality. But at their core, they function as dynamic exchanges of emotional, psychological, and practical value. Every “I love you” carries implicit subtext: I love you because you make me feel safe, desired, understood, or needed. Strip away those conditions long enough, and what we call love often recedes.

Attraction itself is conditional. It may begin with physical cues, shared worldview, or emotional compatibility. But once you’re past the initial spark, staying together requires constant negotiation of needs—attention, validation, respect, autonomy, consistency. When those are regularly met, attachment deepens. When they aren’t, dissatisfaction festers, no matter how strong the original bond.

Even acts of sacrifice or compromise, often seen as proof of true love, typically have an internal rationale: “I’ll give up this part of myself now because I believe it secures the relationship, avoids conflict, or creates long-term emotional stability.” When that belief fades, so does the willingness to sacrifice.

People don’t “fall out of love” by accident. They reassess the value exchange. Maybe the emotional return decreases. Maybe another person or path offers greater stability, status, or self-actualization. The shift isn’t always calculated consciously, but the underlying logic is there.

Even forgiveness in relationships is conditional. People often forgive when they believe the offender still holds value, or that the relationship is worth restoring. Forgiveness becomes harder when the perceived value drops or the betrayal shatters the foundational conditions—like trust, loyalty, or shared vision.

In essence, romantic love is not the suspension of logic, but its most complex application. The conditions are often emotional and nuanced, but they are still conditions.

Now, you may ask: what difference does it make to know all this? Or whether it makes me a happier man?

The answer is both yes and no. It doesn’t necessarily make me happier or wiser. But it helps me eliminate uncertainty, arguably the deadliest enemy available to mankind. I don’t find peace through this understanding; I simply remove one more layer of confusion. And sometimes, clarity—however cold—is a better companion than hope built on illusion.

So the question remains:

Is life still worth enduring, with all its pain, uncertainty, and impermanence, knowing that nothing exists beyond the boundaries of this experience?