Anhedonia, for close to 7 years now, has been the bane of my entire existence. It routinely, sometimes night after night, denies me the seemingly simple ability to just unwind and distract myself with something halfway enjoyable. And here I am once again, for what is probably well over the 1000th time, paralyzed into submission by my old nemesis anhedonia. Life, for all its many troubles, honestly wouldn't have been half as bad as it is to cope with, if it hadn't been for this fucking demon called anhedonia coming along to permanently screw everything up. With nothing to distract myself with, I'm given over to the annoying buzzing of my random thoughts, and the crushing emptiness/boredom of each passing moment.
You know, if I weren't so ugly/broken on the inside, I really could've had a nice life. Physically speaking, there's nothing wrong with me at all. In that area of things, I have nearly every advantage one could hope for. And yet, despite it all, it means nothing. If anything, it mocks me every time I look at myself in the mirror. "What the hell is the matter with me?", I ask myself. "Why can't I just get out there and do something!". Why, indeed. I feel like I'll be asking myself that question for the rest of my life, despite already being well aware of the answer. Instead of a life worth living, there will simply be nothing. Nothing, but countless more nights like this one. Empty and alone. For whatever time remains in my useless life. What a fucking pitiful waste I turned out to be. In the end, I'll die the way I lived. A worthless coward. But hey, at least I had nice teeth and a handsome face. For all the fucking good it did me as an agoraphobic, socially retarded hermit with nowhere in the world to go, and nothing in the universe to do.