This is contentment.
Or maybe it's that point of just being.
One or the other.
The air is too cold. I feel it bringing up ridges on my skin.
There's an ache in my side and an itch in my ******
But this is just how I am.
The world is fuzzy and sleepy and hollow and overwhelming
And that is just how it is.
If I was removed from the situation little would change.
The air would still be too cold, though no one would feel it.
The ache would be in someone else's side.
The itch would be in someone else's ******.
The world would just be.