When you can't leave a country, you start saying you like it. When you can't quit a job, you begin to find its positive sides. When you're stuck in a relationship you no longer want, you start telling yourself maybe it's meant to be. When you're disabled, you start convincing yourself there's meaning in that condition too. These are all psychological adaptation mechanisms. The brain, just to avoid breaking down in front of an unchangeable reality, changes the way you perceive it. It's like self-hypnosis to stop suffering. You do it to survive, not as a conscious choice. It's a form of cognitive dissonance reduction: "I can't escape, so maybe there's nothing to escape from." It's also hedonic adaptation: you get used to it, you go numb, and slowly the initial pain fades, not because things got better, but because you've emotionally shut down. And finally, it's rationalized resignation: when you can't get something, you start telling yourself you didn't really want it anyway. Like Aesop's fox and the grapes: too high? Then they were sour. This isn't true acceptance, it's a way to stay standing when every other way is closed. It's not freedom — it's a prison disguised as peace of mind. And the same applies to suicide. It's not that people love living — it's just that, when they first faced the horror of existence, there was no button to press to disappear. There was only suicide: a traumatic exit, physical, painful, against every instinct. So the brain activated those same mechanisms: cognitive dissonance, hedonic adaptation, rationalization. Not to heal, but to endure. Over time, the mind built a narrative: "maybe life has a purpose," "maybe it's not so bad." And the trap closed. Unconsciously, they adapted. But the ones who keep wanting to die, who still think about it after years, are the ones who never fully adapted. They live in that ambiguous zone you could call suicidal ambivalence — or simply a kind of awareness incompatible with life. They are the ones who resisted the mental tricks. And precisely because there's no painless button, they fight every day between the will to vanish and the biological compulsion to stay. If that button did exist — a way to disappear without suffering — most people, maybe not right away, but eventually, would press it. Because life, stripped of illusion, fear, and the propaganda that "it's always worth it," reveals itself for what it truly is: a trap dressed as a miracle. And then yes, no one would remain.
