Limb of the matter.

There's something strangely blissful about living in a limbo.

I consider sentences of one sort or another. None seem of any consequence.

I look outside. Snowflakes twirling down from the sky. Should matter. But doesn't.

A happy smile. Laughter. Should matter. I laugh and then stop. It won't lead anywhere.

Manual labour. Corporeal punishment. Satisfying. Matters as long as it steals time from me.

They ask questions. I have no answers. I search my mind but I find nothing. Echoes ricochet all around and come back to square one. I'm sorry I'm like this. Is it not enough that I'm smiling and laughing?

I have nothing to contribute but I like the emptiness. I'm content. Satisfied. Nothing can move me one way or the other.

Bless this blissful state.