"Unless suffering is the direct and immediate object of life, our existence must entirely fail of its aim. It is absurd to look upon the enormous amount of pain that abounds everywhere in the world, and originates in needs and necessities inseparable from life itself, as serving no purpose at all and the result of mere chance. Each separate misfortune, as it comes, seems, no doubt, to be something exceptional; but misfortune in general is the rule."
We live in a world where horrendous shit like child trafficking/molestation exists. So I don't really give a shit what the meaning of it all is.
We're cogs in a machine at best, toiling away for an indifferent or sadistic creator. The idea of a loving one, if one exists, is pure retardation and denial.
Or life is meaningless. Either way, fuck it.