Sonder

In the moment, I never notice.

Looking back at photos, snapshots of times lost, I do.

Every face in those photos is an eternal soul, a person with passions and pet peeves and hidden, secret words. For a moment as I scan the faces, the souls burn through, and I see it. Every life passing mine by, looping through mine and attaching it to their own with innumerable cords. They spin or stride or blaze through my vision. Some stay in step with me for so long that it takes me a while to identify the pang of empty space.

Most do that.

After a while, I think I’ve gotten used to it. I adapt. I don’t let myself cry. I know I won’t see them again, but I know I can survive.

It seems harsh not to let myself care when so many are leaving, but so, so many have already gone.

When I look back, it hits me. All those souls have left my side and cut new paths. I am left in the same place, with new people weaving in around me, filling in gaps and being ripped away in their turn. Each new person leaves me with new memories to add to my bank. New holes gaping in the canvas.

“So we beat on, boats against the current, bound back ceaselessly into the past…”

You know what really gets me?

Soon my footsteps will leave this continent. I will be that flame in the past, that girl who used to stay here, it’s such a shame you couldn’t have met her… I will be in the history of this place. My flame will leave these shores behind, and I will carve my way into a new story.

sonder – the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own. From The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows.