Sondering right now.


It takes us a while to acknowledge that other people are equally sophisticated and unique as ourselves. There’s a term for that: sonder. The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows describes it as:

The realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own — populated with their own ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness — an epic story that continues invisibly around you like an anthill sprawling deep underground, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you’ll never know existed, in which you might appear only once, as an extra sipping coffee in the background, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.

This is far from a sorrow though. It’s exhilarating.

I kept a journal through most of my teenage years and I have painful records of a time when my audacity knew no bounds. Either…

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