what is this place?

At times, I get tired of thinking and a sort of numbness sets in. It's a strange place between not thinking and not feeling, like an erased pencil sketch trace of both in the air, against a light blue backdrop. Why it's light blue, I don't know. I'm powerless in this place, but I need no power either, because no one has it over me here. It's a place of "to each one's own". I can't call for help. I don't want to. No one could reach me. I accept all, and though it doesn't feel right, I look on with unseeing curiosity. I contort my face towards its centre because that's what it does when I cry, but no tears come. What is there to cry for, anyway? I feel the flood of warm liquid to the path that reminds me of the source of tears, but no springs emerge; the hot pressure of thought and emotion mingled, cooled by the near vacuity of this place. I'm trapped by the space in which I am free to move. How do I free myself from an unlocked, unbounded cage?