Most of the time I'm alright with it. I can accept that it happens, that I'm going to lose people I love, and that one day I'm going to die as well.
And then sometimes it just really hits me that I'm going to die. That I won't wake up, that I'll cease to exist, that my body will be rotting in the ground and I'll eventually be forgotten by everyone. And I feel sick and my stomach drops out and I feel light-headed and like I can't breathe.
It's the only thing that ever affects me like that, so if I have to think about it I try to only think about it in a general, abstract way.