**Trigger warning: suicide, hypoglycemia, general inappropriateness, and death.**
I feel like shit, shit, shit.
48 is not the answer,
it is not the question,
it is just a number under 70,
a number that means
wobbly, racing, thoughts,
and nothing and grumpiness
Sometimes, the roller-coaster feels like too much,
but the only way to get off is to die (for now).
Since I am not a DIY-er in the dying department
I’ll just eat a banana, and wait.