Yes, it’s foolish to expect love and affection from even relatives. You’re alone in this world. You can see relatives who can recite holy verses yet will fight over family property.
I’ve seen enough of this world to say it without hesitation -- this planet is not run by kindness, love, or humanity. It’s ruled by one cold, glittering god: money. Everything else is noise. All the flowery talk about compassion, affection and faith in relationships collapses the moment money walks into the room. The world becomes polite only when your wallet is full. Strip away the currency, and you’ll see people’s true faces -- blank, distant, even cruel.
I learned that the hard way. You think people care for you because they call you “friend,” “brother,” “uncle,” “chettan,” “uncle,” or “colleague.” But no one stands with you when you need them -- unless there’s something in it for them. You may have spent years helping others, showing up when they were in trouble, giving your time, energy, or even money. But when it’s your turn to ask for help, the silence is deafening. Phones don’t ring. Messages remain unread. Doors close softly, and suddenly you realise: you’re on your own.
We’re told as children that love conquers all, that family and friendship are sacred, that good people are rewarded. That’s a myth sold to us so we don’t give up too soon. The reality is far from it. Empathy today is a performative act — a well-curated show for social media. People “feel bad” only in captions, not in real life. They’ll type a heart emoji but won’t lift a finger when you actually need a hand. Their compassion ends where inconvenience begins.
Even the so-called good people are selective in their goodness. They’ll help as long as it doesn’t affect their comfort or reputation. True empathy demands sacrifice — and that’s a language very few understand anymore. Most are fluent only in self-interest.
Relatives, the biggest illusion
If you think family will stand by you no matter what, think again. Blood ties are not immune to the rot of greed and self-preservation. I’ve seen relatives who can recite holy verses yet will fight over a few square feet of ancestral land. I’ve seen cousins who vanish when you’re struggling, only to resurface when you regain some success. People pretend to care about you, but they really care about what they can gain through you — status, connection, or financial benefit.
Don’t expect any love or affection from relatives. You’re alone in this world.
Even parents and siblings can turn cold when money enters the equation. It’s ugly to say it aloud, but it’s true. I’ve seen families split, brothers stop talking, children disown elders — all for property, inheritance, or control. Love, it seems, has a price tag. The moment the currency dries up, affection too starts evaporating.
Friendship has become the new corporate deal. It’s built on “mutual benefit.” You hang out, share jokes, talk of loyalty and trust — but beneath the laughter lies a silent contract: “What do I get out of this?” The day that balance tilts, the so-called friendship cracks. Suddenly you become invisible to the very people who once claimed to be your “family.”
True friends -- those rare souls who stand by you without calculating profit or loss -- are almost extinct. Everyone wears a smiling mask but watches your pockets from behind it. If you succeed, they appear with congratulations laced with jealousy. If you fail, they vanish to avoid being “drained” by your problems. Friendship today is just an alliance of convenience.
Love — the grandest deception
And love -- that sacred word people romanticise to death -- is often the grandest scam. Modern love is transactional. It runs on what you can provide, not who you are. Money, status, looks, lifestyle -- that’s the new currency of romance. Affection is conditional; loyalty is temporary. When the sparkle fades or the bank balance dips, the promises evaporate too.
People don’t fall in love anymore -- they invest in people, expecting returns. You’ll see couples flaunting their affection online but privately bargaining over who pays what, who gains more social mileage, or who has the upper hand. It’s exhausting, but it’s the truth. Love today is a financial arrangement wrapped in emotional packaging.
The society we live in loves preaching moral values. Every institution -- from religion to politics to business -- thrives on moral posturing. But beneath the sermons lies hypocrisy so thick you can choke on it. Politicians talk of “serving the people” while robbing them blind. Corporates sell “sustainability” while exploiting their workers. Religious heads talk of peace while counting donations. Everyone plays saint while worshipping money in secret.
We’re surrounded by institutions built on lies -- schools that teach ethics but reward cheating, offices that praise teamwork but crush individuality and families that claim unity while practising subtle exclusion. We live in an age of appearances, where being good matters more than doing good.
There’s a certain loneliness in accepting that you’re truly alone in this world. It’s not an easy truth to digest. You want to believe there’s someone out there who’ll care unconditionally. But experience teaches you otherwise. When you fall sick, you realise sympathy lasts only till the first hospital bill. When you lose your job, empathy fades after the first week. When you’re broken emotionally, people offer advice, not presence.
I’ve stopped expecting anything from anyone. Not out of bitterness, but out of realism. The fewer your expectations, the lesser your disappointments. People are fickle. Circumstances change. Affection is temporary. Only self-reliance endures. Once you understand that, you stop begging for compassion. You build your own strength, one scar at a time.
Money: the only language that works
Let’s not pretend otherwise -- money is the real power. It buys respect, silence, and influence. People listen only when you can pay. Without money, even your opinions don’t matter. You could be the kindest, most talented person on earth, but if you’re broke, you’ll be invisible. Society measures worth not in character but in currency.
I’ve seen people with no morals being celebrated simply because they’re rich. I’ve seen the honest ones mocked because they’re struggling. Success today is defined not by integrity or contribution but by net worth. Even decency has become a luxury only the wealthy can afford.
Money decides who gets justice, who gets fame, who gets attention, and who gets ignored. It buys connections, opportunities, even sympathy. A rich man’s tears are seen as tragedy; a poor man’s suffering is seen as weakness.
The best education life gives you is through loss. When you hit rock bottom, you see reality without filters. You see who stands by you and who disappears. You learn that promises are fragile and relationships are conditional. You stop being naive. You stop romanticising people. You stop believing in empty words.
When you have nothing, you realise how much of this world operates on pure self-interest. Suddenly, even those you thought were close start treating you like a liability. They avoid eye contact, they change the topic, they tell you they’re “too busy.” That’s when it hits you — affection was never unconditional. It was convenience disguised as care.
But hitting the bottom also gives you something priceless — clarity. You stop expecting empathy from a world incapable of it. You begin to see people as they are, not as you wish them to be. That clarity is painful, but it’s liberating.
The hypocrisy of help
Most people don’t help because they care; they help because it makes them feel good about themselves. Charity has become a PR exercise. Even compassion is now a transaction. People will help you only if it enhances their image or reputation. Genuine kindness -- the quiet, nameless kind that expects nothing -- has become a rarity.
Watch how people react when you ask for help. Some will promise, some will sympathise, but very few will actually show up. And even those who do will keep score. They’ll remind you of their generosity in subtle ways. “Remember that time I helped you?” That’s the world’s idea of compassion -- conditional, calculated and short-lived.
Respect too is not what it used to be. People don’t respect character anymore; they respect power. They don’t respect wisdom; they respect fame. They don’t respect honesty; they respect influence. You can be brilliant, but if you’re poor, you’ll be ignored. You can be mediocre, but if you’re rich, you’ll be worshipped.
The sad truth is that respect today is not earned. It’s purchased. Money gives you credibility, not virtue. And the world happily bows before those who can afford arrogance. We’ve built a civilisation that celebrates pretence and punishes authenticity.
So how do you survive in such a world? You stop expecting fairness. You stop expecting people to be kind. You accept that selfishness is the default mode of human behaviour. Once you stop fighting that truth, you gain power. You start depending only on yourself. You stop wasting time on people who drain your energy. You focus on building your life quietly, fiercely, independently.
Self-respect becomes your currency. Solitude becomes your fortress. You stop begging for validation and start feeding your own fire. You learn that peace doesn’t come from people; it comes from detachment. When you no longer need anyone’s approval or affection, you become untouchable.
Of course, there are exceptions -- a few rare souls who genuinely care, who don’t measure life in money. But they’re like oases in a vast desert. You can’t base your faith in humanity on those exceptions. If you find one or two such people, value them -- but don’t build your life around them. They can disappear too. Circumstances can change them. Everyone is good till tested.
The majority, however, will always follow the money. That’s the system we live in — one that rewards greed and mocks simplicity. Those who speak the truth are labelled bitter; those who manipulate are called smart. Honesty is outdated. Decency is seen as weakness. The world doesn’t want good men; it wants profitable ones.
The mask we all wear
We’ve all learned to wear masks -- polite, smiling, agreeable masks. We suppress our real thoughts because truth is too raw for public consumption. Everyone’s pretending -- pretending to care, pretending to listen, pretending to be good. It’s an endless theatre of hypocrisy. Some play better than others, but no one is real anymore.
And the more you see through these masks, the lonelier you become. Because once you see the truth, it’s impossible to unsee it. You can’t go back to believing in fairy tales. You learn to live with the discomfort of awareness.
If there’s one lesson I’ve learned, it’s this — toughen up. Don’t expect warmth in a cold world. Don’t hand your emotions to people who haven’t earned them. Don’t rely on love that demands proof. Build yourself so strong that you no longer need anyone’s mercy. Strength is the only real safety net left.
People will call you cynical for thinking this way. Let them. The world loves comforting lies and hates inconvenient truths. But cynicism, in times like ours, is not weakness — it’s armour. It keeps you from being destroyed by false hopes.
The final truth
At the end of the day, money rules. It decides who lives in comfort and who fights for survival. It defines relationships, dictates morals, and shapes destinies. The world bows to it — not because people are evil, but because survival itself has been monetised.
Love is beautiful, but it won’t pay your bills. Compassion feels good, but it won’t buy your freedom. Affection is pleasant, but it won’t protect you from the brutality of real life. Money will. That’s the brutal, unromantic truth.
You don’t have to like it. You just have to see it for what it is.
So I’ve stopped searching for affection in a world that trades only in profit. I’ve stopped expecting sympathy from people who worship convenience. I’ve stopped craving validation from those who don’t even understand loyalty.
Now, I walk alone -- not with bitterness, but with clarity. I trust no one blindly. I love selectively. I protect my peace like treasure. Because this world is ruthless, and only the strong survive. And if that sounds harsh, it’s because truth usually is.
