A representative of homo sapiens sapiens species tends to downplay their own cognitive errors. They overestimate the likelihood of historical events. It seems to them that World War I was bound to happen, and they can’t understand why stockbrokers in 1914 failed to see it coming. They follow irrational strategies like the “sunk cost fallacy.” They don’t stop actions that have led them to bankruptcy, hoping that fate will turn in their favor. They seek confirmation of their beliefs rather than falsification, “freezing” opinions even when confronted with contradictory information.

This tendency is evident in various contexts. As a professional judge, they issue sentences for murder that are five years shorter if the perpetrator is physically attractive. From the perspective of an investigative unit, it’s more advantageous when a murder is committed on a gloomy morning —bad weather worsens mood, which enhances memory retention.

These cognitive patterns are not just flaws—they have adaptive value. Delusions help humans survive, especially in difficult times. They serve as defense mechanisms against facts and emotions that are hard to accept. They comfort and offer hope. Their structure is simple. Truth, on the other hand, requires effort, is often less spectacular, and hypotheses must be constantly adjusted to a changing reality. Reptilian conspiracies and flat-Earth theories are glaring examples of delulu, but it’s worth examining the everyday delusions we all fall into. Micro-delusions consist of less dramatic but frequent projections, self-deception, and misinterpretations.

What, then, are the sources of these delusions? Their source is often cognitive miserliness — the tendency to choose simple but inaccurate mental models. Another reason is the misattribution of emotional causes. It’s easier to believe that something is inherently bad than to admit that bad weather has simply ruined our mood. We also blame group processes and conformity. Collective illusions can be striking. In groups, opinions radicalize, and people reinforce flawed beliefs. Finally, there’s the internalization of norms delivered through socialization.

Take fairy tales, for example—somehow considered ideal for children. They’re full of bizarre rules, violence, and stereotypical beliefs. Modern cartoons, though occasionally subversive, mostly pacify rebellious children. Do you remember the lullaby about the page, the king, and the princess who were eaten by animals? How is anyone supposed to fall asleep after hearing that?

And yet, the world of conventions surrounded the individual with a dense social network: chaperones checked whether a suitor was suitable, a family’s good name built trust, and rules clearly defined what was proper. In classic fairy tales, things were simple: the villain was evil to the core, scheming to make life miserable for a poor orphan with a heart of gold. The TOP Models ranking creates a magical mirror—no shades of gray, no hesitation. Today, some people look in the mirror and don’t know whether they see the Evil Queen or Snow White.

In the age of affective capitalism, managing attention through strong emotions is profitable—and truth rarely evokes strong emotions. Genuine well-being doesn’t make you a good consumer. No problem,  just keep improving yourself: mindfulness, well-being, coaching, thermo-lifting, sauna-rave —all in the hope that the essence of “me” has a proper form. Elevate Your Morning Fitness Routine Regime. Join an elite pilates club, attend a casting, attach your CV. Surround yourself with talismans, believe that the stone of power will allow you to cheat fate.  

The tragic reality is that fairy tales now always seem a little spoiled. But if not them—then what remains? The personality is dissociating; there are two wolves inside you. One entity will do anything to please others. It reflects itself in the mirror of others to become a fluffy ball. The other teaches courses on how to embody the dark triad. It reflects itself in the mirror of others to hide its predatory teeth.