a sense of foreboding

My inner voice has become much more noticeable than it ever has been. I did something today that I kepet putting off because everytime I considered getting the task done, I felt queasy and miserable. So today I finally went to the place, did the paperwork. And it was a disaster. Really awful. I came home having wildly suicidal thoughts, which I don't have much anymore.

I would like to be not alive but I am disinclined to suicide.

But when I hear someone died, famous or not famous, I listen for the age they were and if it was very old, I cringe. I don't want to live to be 97. Take me out now.