There is no meaning of life that can be put in well-reasoned words. It's the entirely irrational, obscure feeling that there is a point to all this, and if you don't have that feeling, you're depressed. Nobody ever committed suicide because they'd reached a philosophical impasse; people kill themselves because of feelings, not because they started reading the Four Noble Truths of the Buddha and stopped after the first one.
What led me to this conclusion is my experience with major depression and anti-depressants since adolescence. In a way, their effect is scarier than that of any street drug, a total profound and at the same time very subtle change of perspective and general outlook. So right now life makes no sense, everything is bleak and dreary, people are mean, the world is a shithole but after two or three weeks, you don't even ask yourself questions about the meaning of life (they will probably sound rather pompous and silly), everything just is, i.e. as normal and banal as ever, people are what they are and do what they do, who gives a fuck, and I have my family and friends so the world at large can go hang. It made me aware of just how relative feelings are and how everything, and I mean everything, we do is governed by emotions. Logic doesn't stand a chance. Even authors of the dryest philosophical treatises imaginable wrote them because they liked their intellectual output, because they felt they expressed their personal truth and they felt good formulating them, and most important of all, they felt that the general public needed to read their (hopefully) sublime thoughts, because otherwise they wouldn't have written them down and published them in the first place. It's feelings, feelings all the way.
It’s why I have a hard time to take such expressions of world weariness very seriously. If you are not actually afflicted by physical pain or illness, by disability, past trauma or by anything specific that makes you despair for some serious reason, you might suffer from clinical depression, and if you’re lucky enough to respond to anti-depressants and your doc finds the right one, that generalized world weariness will be completely gone, unbelievably enough, because, once again, your capacity of feeling that it’s all worth it will be restored, and no flash of philosophical insight or forum reply can do that. We’re all here because we feel intrigued by metaphysical questions, because we’re excited about this or that new method or book, and once we cease to feel intrigued or excited, we’ll most likely drop the whole thing, however revolutionary that method or however well-crafted that book.
Long story short: People live because they like to live for whatever reason, and that reason is always a feeling (or a whole bundle of emotions) and not some elaborate doctrine or sophisticated rational philosophy. By the same token, we concern ourselves with such outlandish, weird things here because we like it. Oh yes, we all can justify our interest in the occult with the most beautfully chosen words anrd rationales but they are as nothing compared to emotions like fascination or obsession that keep us pushing forward in our studies and daily practice, grotesque as that may seem to outsiders.