In a world where we constantly see others’ lives through filtered images, it’s easy to believe that the meaning of life is about impressing others. We want to show that we’re doing well, that we’re successful, loved, and seen. But in the chase for admiration, many of us lose touch with what truly gives us strength: the close, the real, the things that don’t need validation to have value.
Living through the eyes of others changes you. You become more focused on appearances than on how you truly feel. You chase recognition, and each time you get it, it only lasts a moment. Soon, you need more. And more. It creates stress. Comparison. Restlessness. You forget to ask: What do I truly need? What matters to me?
Many burn out in this chase. Not because they work too much, but because they live too far from themselves. They replace their inner voice with the expectations they think others have of them.
This isn’t limited to wealthy societies. In poorer parts of the world, young people in slum areas may spend what little they have on mobile phones and branded clothes, believing it’s their ticket out. Yet often, it’s the money their parents quietly save for education that truly is.
How often do we see adults with good jobs and large homes lose themselves in status symbols they don’t need? And children growing up in homes where success is measured only by how impressive everything looks from the outside?
False values seduce because they speak to something deeply human: the need to be seen. But they keep us trapped in a game where no one wins.
Meaning is not a competition. It can’t be won. True meaning arises when you live honestly, when you’re present in moments that don’t need applause, when you do something kind and feel that it is enough, when you dare to pause and be where you are.
Meaning is not about owning more. It’s not about looking perfect in a photo, but about clearly seeing what truly matters. And what matters is often right in front of you—in the eyes of someone you love, or in the silence after a meaningful conversation. It can be in the shared laughter of neighbors who support each other, or in watching a tree you planted grow steadily through the seasons, reminding you that life moves forward with or without praise.
Living to be admired is a sure path to emptiness. To feel truly alive, we need to be more present—for each other.
And it begins when we turn our gaze inward and ask ourselves: What truly matters to me, deep down? What gives me peace, direction, and strength?
My childhood was uncertain and turbulent. My father was a controversial artist who, at times, struggled to support the family. My mother battled bipolar disorder, and life was often chaotic. Fortunately, the moments when things were good are the ones that stayed with me. Along with an upbringing rooted in trusting my abilities and not caring what others thought, it gave me the strength to dive into many different things. My life turned out to be quite a winding path, but I learned a lot along the way. Like how important it is to hold onto the reason and sense my parents tried to instill in me: that the meaning of life is to take care of it without losing yourself.
I’ve often caught myself checking my phone too frequently, wondering how many likes came in after posting something on Facebook. That’s when it helps to call on some old wisdom still stored in the back of my mind and remind myself to stop caring about being polished and picture-perfect.
Featured image © Eldar Einarson
