Story Time

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Let me tell you about my story because I don't think I'll write one after.
I'm a manlet in his 25, I'm a psychologist, I have a really beautiful girlfriend (no, I'm not exaggerating she's really beautiful) who's a psychologist too, we've been together for seven years now, we plan to get married soon. I have a great job, I'm also a musician, I have a band with my friends and we play every week. I play the guitar, the piano and I make music on my computer. I've met my fav artist and got to party with him. I live in a small town with a lot of greenish landscapes with a beautiful sight. I have a cat, who's an asshole but I love her. I'm going to Europe soon with my girlfriend after getting married, we're going to live over there.
My life is something you can call a happy one. But I have a struggle. There are several times where I can't get fun or happiness, even when everything's okay my mind can't bear everything and I just want to be alone with the thoughts that are destroying me. I can't enjoy anything, I can't think of positive things, I can't smile anymore.
Yesterday I thought about killing myself not because I was sad, or depressed (maybe I was, but clinically I don't fit in the depression diagnosis), is just because I didn't find the point in living anymore, it didn't make sense to me, it doesn't make sense now either.
What's the point of living? There's absolutely no proof that we're going anywhere after death. And when you die, there's only memories left, memories that you'll never think again because you'll be dead. Death ends everything, death gives you rest, and I'm tired.