I think I finally understand why some products make sense and most don't.

Good products aren't designed into shape. They're shaped by constraints.

Time, attention, cognitive load, cost, context. These forces are always present, whether we design for them or not. Whatever cannot survive them gets ignored, abandoned, or worked around. Whatever remains starts to feel obvious.

That obviousness is what we mistake for "good design."

When something works well, nothing feels arbitrary. Not because it's simple, but because every part feels justified. You might not know why it's there, but you trust that it earned its place. The form feels inevitable.

Most products fail for the opposite reason.

Too many decisions exist without justification. Features ship because competitors have them. Buttons exist because buttons usually go there. Layouts change because someone wanted them to feel new. Form gets locked in early, and meaning is patched in afterward.

But constraints don't care about intent.

Users don't experience roadmaps. They experience friction. They don't reward cleverness. They reward relief. Any part of a product that doesn't reduce pressure adds weight. And weight eventually gets cut.

The best products feel constrained. Not limited, but shaped. Like they've been carved down by use rather than imagined in isolation. They don't announce themselves, don't fight you, don't explain more than necessary.

This also changes how adaptation should work.

Good products evolve constantly, but they don't feel unstable. They stay recognizable. Changes are proportional to real pressure: new context, new scale, new behavior. Nothing moves without a reason. Nothing stays without one.

That's the difference between iteration and churn.

Maybe the goal isn't to design more expressive products. Maybe it's to design fewer arbitrary things.

If something exists, it should be because it survived contact with reality: limited attention, imperfect understanding, real-world usage.

Form shouldn't be just aspirational. It should be evidence.

That's what makes a product feel trustworthy.

Not style. Not novelty. But the absence of the arbitrary.