hey jupiter

i have learned that when confronted with the consequences of being a victim of someone else's evil, we have a choice. there is the option to be angry, bitter, resentful. we can also choose not to let such things destroy us. but why is there a grotesque obscession with being self-destructive? we would rather cling to depression, embrace our sorrow and reject any form of hope. why is this, when what we long for is happiness and peace? why is masochism a more viable route than the road to repair?