time alone

Every pulsing breathing moment where I'm left to myself, listening to music, in silence, hearing the shrieking seagulls or the murmuring cars, are like threats, to kill me. I'm in no danger, yet these little, tiny things tell me I'm a living vulnerable thing whom anything can happen to, at any moment. That I'm fragile, percieving, aware and only a speck in the grand scheme of things. I fucking hate it. Sure I love living life blissfully ignorant time to time, but every now and then, knowing it's all.. so easily able to disappear, whether it's the world or parts of me is.. hard. That cat I pet might be dead. That person I talked to might've not even liked me. Shit, there's probably friends whom despise me. It might not be true, and things might never happen but.. the thought of everything being temporary isn't pleasant. It's an unsettling feeling, really. That's all..