sonder

n. 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. nostr:note1ygxp5lkvkd9gycv8kpjtesyj2djqym2jvtaa5sl98dad9kgq69vsadv3xs

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It’s what I try to live by, you will never regret being kind even when you seem to have the right to be rude

Whoa

Somebody has been watching the Dictionary of obscure sorrows.

I remember when I was a kid looking out the window of a car, passing lines and lines of terrace houses and thinking "each of these has people living in them, each with their own life and problems."

When I have this feeling, and I’m glad someone named it, it usually comes with a sense similar to that of knowing there are so many excellent books that I will not read, songs I will not hear, and stories I’ll never know. This used to bother me as a kid, but now it’s more of a reminder that the good things in life are so numerous.

We didn't useta call that sonder in college