How often do I have to convince myself that taking my own life won't make me feel any better? Come on, think back on those days when you've reveled so much in your life you almost forgot that shit's happening. Recall those books you've read, the life-changing stories that moved you and made you swear never to hate your life again. Remember those valuable pieces of advice that you thought meaningless but later proved to be the only salvation in your otherwise painful existence. Try to enumerate the names of the people who'd be devastated once you've crossed that line.
Or simply, just think about what you'll be leaving behind. Stuff. More and more stuff. Stuff you actually never thought you can't live without. Stuff that mean so much to you. Think, think, think.
Thing is, I just think this is pointless, to force myself into believing that these things make sense. They just don't.