As far as I can tell God isn't real, so as far as I know heaven isn't, either. And if God is real, I can't have faith in him, because it's obvious it's not the God the Christians taught me about, but some kind of asshole deity that likes to see us suffer, and/or uses our suffering as some kind of sick example. Since I lack this faith, on the off-chance God was real, I'd be going to hell anyway.
Which means all I have is, most likely, well under 80 years on some random rock in space, like some kind of bacteria growing on a rotten fruit in a bucket. Purposeless and meaningless, grasping for any happiness that can be found, which are few. Clawing and fighting just to maintain anything resembling a "life", always running into walls. And this is when I'm actually one of the lucky ones, to live in one of the better countries on this earth.
To top that off, with as ridiculously stupid and power hungry as people are on this rock, we're either going to kill ourselves off, or be destroyed by something that could have been prevented if we could only stop our bickering and play nice. And even if our race survives, or overcomes most of today's ills - which is extremely unlikely - I won't be around anymore to congratulate them.
And at the end of it all there will be nothing to show for it, just a bunch of mass floating in some uncaring universe. Just a broken body to be cast into a fire. Is that all I get? Is that all that any of us get?
I wish my life were a better story, but what can you expect with either no author, or a shitty one?