#27 vingt-sept et fatigué

Am dying and getting crushed by work now... Sometimes I think that if I continue at the rate I'm going, I might work myself to death one day. (I'm being dramatic) I've glued my butt onto the chair for the past 13 hours doing Statistics and this is my only friend:

But I trapped him and his friends in a glass jar, and ate them too.

I feel like that's also where I am; in a glass bell jar.

Everybody sees me, but nobody can hear what my heart is saying.

They can't come in either. So that makes me feel quite safe.

But I still wish someone could eat me too.

Then I wouldn't have to live in there forever.