she never felt the romance
others reveled in,
darkness her home.
a tattered life reading
other people’s enchantment,
their words pricked her ears.
she was not deaf
to “what could be”,
lost in a world of torment.

Anhedonia, oh Anhedonia, how you crush!
You, a notion of something feared
A burden to her every breath.

“This had been one of Hal’s deepest and most pregnant abstractions, one he’d come up with once while getting secretly high in the Pump Room. That we’re all lonely for something we don’t know we’re lonely for. How else to explain the curious feeling that he goes around feeling like he misses somebody he’s never even met? Without the universalizing abstraction, the feeling would make no sense.”

David Foster Wallace, Infinite Jest

That “pregnant abstractions” exist is hope, if hope is something real. I love those two words. Wonderful how two words, only two words,  can envelope a host of thought. 

One thought on “Anhedonia

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