TORPOR

Think what you like. I'm just going to stand here at this window and look out into another grey afternoon. You can call it "laziness" or "lethargic", if you wish. "The quality or state of being lazy or indifferent," would be an honest assessment of me right now. But I just don't have a whole lot left in me.
It all sort of feels like a used-up chalkboard that's been wiped with a worn and dusty eraser. You can still feel a layer of leftover something there, but the marks are brushed into each other, and no sense can be made of it. The whole thing has become foggy and thin. What it really needs is a wash with warm soapy water.
But the bully behaved today, and went home without after-school detention. The janitor is on strike, demanding he either get better wages or free lunches. He wants something to help him justify his use. Mops, buckets, and urinal cakes have been beat out by the snickering and name-calling. Teenagers can be rather mean when they travel in packs, and we all know how fragile job pride can be.
Someone please come along and wash me down,.. and don't worry about using an abrasive soap. It would do me some good. But who has the time?
Right now, there is nothing more interesting than the view out this window. Today, there is nothing more valid than just staying quiet. Now, more than ever, words are simply not enough.