People radically underestimate the attractiveness of unhappiness. Until you’ve seen a close friend or relative who has genuinely and willingly given themselves to it, it’s hard to really believe in it.
There’s a strangely compelling allure to the negative emotions. It is a way of getting along in the world. We think we dislike negative emotions, but we don’t. They’re very keen, very stimulating, and far easier to arouse than the positive emotions. There’s a certain kind of high they provide. And that kind of mental, emotional, and neurochemical overstimulation can be very addictive.
I lost an aunt to festering resentment. I lost my cousin and uncle to depression. And especially in my aunt’s case, who I had direct discussions with about her grievances, it was easy to see that her anger was more precious to her than whatever she might gain by giving it up. She treasured it, she coddled it; it gave meaning and structure to her life.
It’s not a pretty process to watch. And you can’t always save people from it, any more than you can save people from their other addictions.
People have always had this proclivity to live for their unhappiness. Technology has provided new platforms and new opportunities for expression, and that has fed our collective social pathology. Social media, in a way, has made us sick. But social media isn’t the drug. We create the drug. It’s alive in us, produced in our very nature, our love of our own unhappiness. The media helps us procure it, helps administer it. But we are our own dealers and addicts.
Making Nobody Happy 