There's simply not enough help for all of us. There's starving third world country inhabitants whose hardship is so much that they might as well live in a different planet from us. There's people in developing countries who is stuck in a dead end job, doomed to suffer for the rest of their life, living only under the slim hope that things will get better.
The only reason for people like this to continue on, to suffer for others, is because of the lie fabricated by the upper class. Hope. They're all empty promises.
Death, on the other hand, is the only promise that can't be broken. The only true way for us to transcend this animalistic and selfish urge to live, to be slaves to this sadistic being called Life, is to die.
Okay, young padawan, it's time for an adult perspective.
* MaximumZero cracks his knuckles and sets to work.
Your argument is flawed. Deeply. And I can poke a hole in it with just one pin, and I have that pin because I used to think exactly the same way. Here it comes, you ready? You get to make your own meaning. Yeah, it's a struggle for most of us. Yes, there are worse off and better off, more broken and less broken, more hopeful and less hopeful people. There are people, most people, who will never reach their ultimate meaning, and some people find meaning in having no meaning (read: Hanslanda.) Your life really, really sucks right now, or so you would have us believe. There are plenty of people who are worse off, but that's really irrelevant because we can only perceive our own reality. The other people in the world may as well be aliens.
Life is worth living because you can
make it worth living. I came from the slums, grew up in such severe poverty that most doctors agree that I should have died of malnourishment years ago, wound up homeless and seriously injured, and clawed and scratched and fought (sometimes literally fought) my way into having a pretty good life, all considered. When I was a small child, I wound up beaten six out of seven days a week (no hyperbole), and I had some of the most horrific things you can imagine done to me. I have scars in places people shouldn't be able to scar. I wanted to give up on life for a long time, and no one blamed me. Hell, I attempted suicide twice. Thankfully, I failed both times. Nowadays, I'm happily married with a decent home, a halfway decent job with good prospects, a wonderful daughter, and a baby on the way. I find meaning in all of that stuff, even if you don't. You get to find your own meaning. You may not have the power to do that now, being so young, but you can start putting your own stamp on your own life. Find meaning in small things, like music, or poetry, or a hobby, or a skill, and run with it. I was never so alive as when I was in a chain-link cage wearing what amounted to a pair of spandex underwear with hundreds or a couple thousand people screaming for my blood.
So, buck the hell up, stop whining about life being hard, and go find some damned meaning in something. You have to figure out what this is all about, and no one can do it for you, even though they will try incessantly. Despite what people tell you, your life is all about you, and it's worth living because you can make life whatever you want.