Mm-hmm. "Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?"
I feel very similarly to this. But it's more of a constant reeling tension that's ready to break the surface at the slightest bit of attention I give it. It's so unknown and so frightening, and the ripple effect it causes - it feels so massive and is inevitable. But really the life of a single person is so infinitesimal and that is, for me anyway, a bittersweet canniness. In the grand scale of things, I sort of treasure my insignificance.
I learned about the true permanence of death when I was young, but even as an adult and all the time I commit to worrying about my health and dealing with the constant mental fallout, I've never come any closer to any amount of understanding for what death truly is. Besides the biological process of decomposition. Maybe people who believe in a soul or in a higher power think differently, but I grapple very hard with the concept of non-existence.