Existenial, baby

In the night, I get this feeling, this existenial dread. Not sure how I'm feeling, not alive, but not quite dead. I go outside, I lose my mind, how I hate this place. When people talk, I want to fly right into outer space. Don't look, don't talk, don't touch me please, pretend that I'm not here. Because in the end, I don't want to be, I've made that crystal clear.