Last night I Google-searched, “A word that means wanting to observe others but not wanting to be observed by others.” To my dismay, no results relevant to my search appeared, and I took it as a very conclusive sign that I needed to go to bed and stop validating my social anxiety. 

I informed my friend about this intense late-night feeling I experienced, and she had traversed the same sensation before. This exchange of thoughts reminded me of videos I had seen outlining feelings that I didn’t know had names; these videos had made me feel completely acknowledged and so un-unique in a comforting way. 

This intense relief of witnessing others feel emotions that have consumed moments of my own life encouraged me to continue research and further connect myself to humanity—sparking a sense of belonging everyone deserves to experience.

Sonder: the realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own.

Sonder appears every time I walk on crowded streets and each time I let my mind wander while driving and I think about each person driving next to me. It rattles me to acknowledge that we all have a destination that requires us to drive on the exact same road at the exact same time in order to reach it. 

This feeling consumed me once in an Olive Garden. I was sitting with my friends, and across the way was an older man sitting by himself. Based on his body language and seemingly kind face alone, I instantly wanted to hear about all the details of his life and what events brought him to this very moment in his story. 

This feeling of frustration that I felt when acknowledging I would most likely never hear this individual’s story is similar to the agony described in the definition of adronitis. 

Adronitis: frustration with how long it takes to get to know someone.

I commend individuals who excel at the art of small talk; I am most definitely not one of those individuals. One of my favorite parts of being human is finally breaking past the point of small talk and getting into purposeful and in-depth conversations. 

I adore transparency; I could listen to strangers speak passionately about themselves forever, from their flaws and stories of their most defining moments to thoughts so small and insignificant that they never thought important enough to share out loud. 

I would love to know every person I’ve ever met.

As much as I love people, the introverted aspect of my personality craves moments of complete solitude. This allows an explanation for my next newly-found favorite emotion. 

Kenopsia: The eerie feeling of being in an area usually bustling with people but is now abandoned and quiet. 

Despite the use of “eerie” in its description, I think kenopsia can be peaceful. Driving at night with limited chances of seeing another car for miles is one of the most restorative experiences the world has to offer. Having the opportunity to be in schools, museums, or any building during a time of desolation can be so eye-opening and thought-provoking as well. 

A feeling that doesn’t entirely fit in the definition of kenopsia is the peace I have felt sitting awake in my room during the latest hours of the night and the earliest hours of the morning. It’s at these times of knowing the world is asleep that I hear silence so clearly and understand myself so strongly. Although I know in these moments that I am entirely alone, I also feel the energy of all others who are awake with me, experiencing the same peace that I am. 

Although I have an infatuation with this feeling of sincerely being alone, I have more of an interest in the idea that feelings I thought couldn’t even be properly explained had names. 

Understanding that others have felt as abstractly as I have and crawled inside of their minds as much as I do has been the most connecting experience I’ve had. I am so grateful to be so human.