Why do beggars beg? What hope do they have?

Isn’t this the irony of life? Those who lack their most basic needs somehow have such an undying hope of surviving while those who have everything guaranteed to make it through to the next day, like myself, have no desire to go on living. I mean, I saw a homeless person asking for money and I just wondered, “What’s the point?” I don’t intend to sound ruthless, but what is this poor man hoping for? Does he honestly think that things will get better? Does he think that he’ll ever be able to afford adequate housing and food? Does he think he’ll ever get married and have children and be happy? Or is it just instinctive? Does having your most primitive needs neglected turn you into some kind of animal (and I don’t mean “animal” as in an offensive kind of way, but then again, we really are nothing but animals. I just mean that animals like squirrels just spend most of their time searching for food and with their big eyes, inspecting their surroundings for any possible threats; they don’t wonder about their existence). I mean, my “tragedy” is that I have everything to survive, but nothing to live for. I have ALL of my most basic needs met, and yet I’m still unsatisfied. What the hell is wrong with me? I cannot be fulfilled? It’s like, I’ve climbed the ranks of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs and there’s nothing at the top of it. I mean, I don’t have any friends and I have a strained relationship with my family, but that doesn’t jeopardize my existence. I don’t freeze to death in the cold winter nights because I have a nice, comfy, warm, luxurious bed. I don’t starve to death because my damn cupboards are overflowing with readily available food. I have EVERYTHING, except hope. I fully acknowledge though, that these luxuries are the only things that keep me alive. These luxuries give me the ability of patience. I am allowed to not freeze or starve to death until I, yet again, have to single-handedly drag my hopeless *** back out into this indifferent, cold world and give myself some hope. But seriously, if these luxuries were taken away from me, and I was the equivalent to a beggar, I would freaking kill myself. I would “get the memo.” Life doesn’t want me here? Fine. I get it. On top of a hopeless journey, where there’s absolutely nothing at the end of it, why the hell would I waste my time trying to “recover” from poverty? I know better. There would be nothing at the end of it…well for me. First truck crossing my path will get the privilege of running my *** over. Hopefully it doesn’t come to that though. I’d very much prefer a person to confide in. Oh well.