My definition of hell, is realizing that you've given more grief than anything else to all the people you love, thinking that love and guilt was just a matter of biology and circuits in the brain that can be toned down or switched off and later finding out that... you can't. Realizing that you've wasted the better part of your life living in hatred, fear, vanity, laziness, greed, unrealistic and empty hopes and dreams, and sheer stupidity and that that wasted life was afforded to you not by your own merit, as that does not exist until after the fact if it at all exists, but by the sacrifice and risk two other people had to make in raising you and nurturing you even beyond the call of normal duty, with only the hopes that they may do good enough of a job to be able to accept their own coming final fate in later life with the comfort and reassurance that the person they invested in with their heart and soul will at least live happily after they've ceased to exist, except not so.
Then finally deciding to kill yourself against every gram of sense you do possess as a compromise to end your own suffering and prevent any further harm to others, except for this final but seemingly necessary one, which is what you tell yourself to delay the truth of the matter being an act of cowardice. Knowing that as you muster every ounce of depleted courage, in an ill, hypersensitive and nauseating state that there is nothing which awaits you on the other side, as there simply is no other side. No heaven, no hell. Just sheer non-existence. A hideous, seemingly unnatural and unfathomable black emptiness with the simultaneous barrage of the greatest guilt you never thought you could feel, the greatest shame, and the greatest fear and most of all the greatest sense of being utterly alone, a truly grim sense of solitude in full glory.