a collection of loneliness

s o n d e r

An old lady. Walking down the street slowly, avoiding all those people that would bump into her. The shopping cart is possibly nearly empty, she might have only bought some eggs and milk for that cake she wants to bake. Maybe every Sunday at 5 o'clock she has a cake date with her husband. She plans to bake just a good old chocolate cake because it is her husband's favorite. She looks tired. Though she probably has this cake date every Sunday, something might feel different that day. Maybe it was because her husband died the night before. Maybe.

A tall grown middle-aged man. Rushing down the street, maybe on the way to his next meeting. On the other end of that phone call might be his son. He looks stressed. Yes, he probably could afford this and that, but still couldn't provide the priceless time spent with family and friends. He mightn't have seen his mother for three years, and won't presumably see her for another few years. His mind might rush while trying to finish that phone call with his son up faster because his colleague Ben tries calling him again. Maybe.

A teenage girl. Strolling down the street. She might be coming from her boyfriend. She looks happy. Maybe they had been together for only a few months and today she fell asleep in his arms. The rain didn't seem to bother her. The happiness she felt in that moment might make her forget the argument she had with her mother the evening before. Maybe because of her bad grades, maybe of her style in clothes, maybe because she hadn't done this or that task in the kitchen. Maybe.

s o n d e r (n.)

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

Their worries, their fears, their dreams, their love.

Their friends, parents, siblings, their teacher, or students.

The cashier in the supermarket on a Saturday evening, that girl that just passed by, the father sitting on a bench in front of a kindergarten, the boy waiting for his mother to pick him up, all of them, individuals of their own.

Their worries, their fears, their dreams, their love, their talents, their weaknesses.

Their friends, parents, siblings, their teacher, or students.

Often overlooked and forgotten. All of them matter. And you too.