‘Shall we wait till tomorrow when you’ve had time to digest?’ I didn’t want a tomorrow of this. I wanted to go back. I would rather never have tasted the infinite new joy of orange juice than have all this. I didn’t want to dance in a cave. I wanted to sit on my sofa and numb myself in front of a quiz show. Allowing myself to feel infinite joy would ultimately lead me to feel infinite pain. And I had felt that and I didn’t want to go back there. I craved, suddenly, uneventful, familiar emptiness. I was actually missing anhedonia.
