I suggest maybe even “edgier” and more certain.
I have browsed through some of the books on his shelves. It seems to be, like Beckett, a maturation of post Schopenhauer pessimism that concludes one of two ways, suicide or take what little pleasure there is in non-reproductive sex til death, the only real pleasure, relieves you. Some in these circles believe that Love and Death are brother and sister and the first pangs of Love can temporarily rule over the effects of Death but Love fades in time. It is better not to be than to be.
Leopardi, Zapffe, Ligotti, Mainländer, Thacker (Marquis de Sade?), many more on his shelves until now unknown to me.
Roots also in gnostic Christianity: The One God so lonely, seeking his own death but, as eternal, could not die, created humans and split his spirit into them, then doomed them with eventual apocalyptic destruction thus his own desired nothingness.
I can see how it could drag a person down. Perhaps resistance is futile.