In a completely arbitrary and totally made-up scenario, one day you find yourself spending a trivial amount of money at a food place using lots of change because, for some reason, the smallest denomination of coin is always the most abundant one in your possession, and you would like to exchange these disease-carrying pocket-stretching wallet-busting irrevocably-depreciated pieces of metal for essential goods and services.
After this brief yet excruciatingly pedantic transaction is completed, you walk away with some high-glucose negligible-nutrition-value yet mysteriously delicious pork buns, and reflect that the effort spent performing that particular human interaction was decidedly non-trivial, and could have been better spent sitting at your computer vacantly staring at the screen watching some guy talk about some shit for three hours.
It takes but a short logical leap, then, to realize that not a single party involved in that exchange wanted any part of it: you didn’t want the shitty food, it was pure sugar and processed carbs; the scowling old lady didn’t want to sell you the shitty food, she would rather be rich and spend every day shopping; the mint didn’t want to stamp those negative-value coins that were worth less than the metal from which they were made, but they have to because they were told to by decision-makers for whom the smallest denomination has three zeros after the one; and the guy in the three-hour podcast has long grown tired of his long-winded hyper-pedantic dives into why this good movie is bad and why that bad movie is a modern classic, but he has fans to placate and bills to pay, so he keeps going on and on and on.
You look around in bewilderment; your days are filled with these small nuisances that lead to small miseries; you look at the people around you and see these miseries manifest in everything they do.
A positive attitude is all you need to change this outlook! You tell yourself this, and immediately feels better. Then the next day you miss your bus because of extra intense bowel acrobatics. Then the delivery guy misplaces your item and now your cute anime girl figurine is nowhere to be found. Then some bureaucratic shit happens that you don’t fully understand, but suddenly you’ve got to pay a chunk of money and fill out a bunch of forms. Then you are left with nothing for lunch because you spent all your lunch money on the figurine. Then you get the nasty pork buns and they definitely do not look or taste as advertised.
At this stage, for the fourteenth time that day, you are ready to kill yourself. It is detestably strange that you are even feeling this way, since the day has plenty of good in it: there was that joke you heard in the morning which was really funny; there was the highly productive work you did which is maybe a million times more useful to humanity as a whole than selling pork buns; and there were all these people being nice, trying their best, helpful, working together, cohesive team environment, etc.
Then a random driver almost hits you and yells at you for being blind. You instinctively understand that he doesn’t really think you are blind, that these expletives are just a way for him to let off the nervous tension of almost hitting someone, yet him very reasonably losing his shit causes you to be angry and miserable. At what? At nothing. Miserable and angry at nothing, another small nuisance leading to a small misery, yet suddenly you want to off yourself again.
It is reasonable, then, to ask yourself why anyone would want to live in such an environment, where people indiscriminately inflict anger and misery onto everyone around them because they themselves are angry and miserable. In other words, why continuously decide not to kill yourself thirty times a day versus making the ‘ok I do that’ decision a single time and kill yourself?
The answer is pork buns. If you ded you won’t be able to eat dem delicious hotness no moar.
As your belly is filled and the balancing blood sugar levels return a semblance of sanity to your mind, you reflect that life is already too full of suicide-inducing little annoyances, and that you don’t need to add any more.
This is why you keep saying no a perfectly reasonable decision, a dozen times a day, a hundred times a week: you can make it a little less worse, just by being alive.