It's all so obvious. We live as small, unimportant beings in a non-sentient, non-caring, infinite universe, in which there is no goal, no endpoint to achieve - except death. Everything we do from birth to death is futile, because we will be erased with our death, the effect we had on people around us will be erased when they die and at some point - better sooner than later - all life on earth will end anyway and all our traces will vanish.
All this futility and meaninglessness might be acceptable, if it wasn't for the suffering, small and huge and unbearable sufferings, which make life even worse. Because there is no reason to go through any kind of suffering, if there is nothing to achieve, and there obviously is nothing to achieve.
So our lifes are short, meaningless episodes of an everlasting drama, which will be deleted just like it never happened in the end.
How people can even think about procreating in such a world, is beyond me.