I'm not trying to make this a suicidal tendency pissing contest, but I spent a solid month getting drunk every afternoon and spending all night, every night, standing at the top of a parking garage, lacerating myself for not having the guts to jump (I couldn't turn off my imagination and stop visualizing the fall and impact. The only reason I'm not dead is I'm good at imagining pain & what dreams could theoretically come. Put differently: I'm a coward)
Wanting to die every day isn't it. (Especially if you can check it by knowing you shouldn't.)
It's not knowing how not to kill yourself.
I think that's an important distinction.
I think you're wrong about the void and theorizing. Women have the void too (unless they're all lying for attention). They have different ways of coping with it.
You say what you're describing is hard to explain. I don't know, I think I get it. Have you read Edith Wharton's
House of Mirth? The word "dingy" comes up a lot, is explicitly treated in a way that makes sure the reader knows they're encountering a bona fide Theme. Dinginess is the creep of that which destroys status. House of Mirth is a fall from grace story. The libidinal hook is what a nice and pure woman and now this is happening. In this sense it's a lot like e.g. Henry James's
Daisy Miller, the tragedy of the lady fallen (which uses the same psychic investments, literarily, that, say, kink.com's public disgrace series uses to somewhat different ends.) The thing about HofM, tho, is that it uses this trope as a way to explore desperate placelessness. The language used is rather existential or w/e. Not that different from a sailor lost in heroic dreams who realizes, at a crucial moment, he's failed his ideal and his treasured self-image no longer protects him against the world (Conrad's great theme. It's impossible to really get
Heart of Darkness unless you've read
Lord Jim. (Seriously, though, if you haven't read Lord Jim, it's fantastic.) )