The easiest way of course is throwing yourself under a bus or truck or train or other form of large unwieldy, unstoppable, grinding transportation device. Not a lot have the guts, and so instead we're left with a slow interminable, foot-dragging, downtrodden march into the killing fields.
And then, lined up, stacked, according to a linear grid. The procession sweeps through and closes the lid, dropping us into the ground, surrounded by the old and the infirm kids, the tragically cut down, and the early gravers who lived on the skids. Who wouldn't die when the other choice is to live?