The Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows

by John Koenig

It’s even oddly empowering—to be reminded that you’re not alone, you’re not crazy, you’re just an ordinary human being trying to make your way through a bizarre set of circumstances.

We have thousands of words for different types of finches and schooners and historical undergarments, but only a rudimentary vocabulary to capture the delectable subtleties of the human experience.

When we speak of sadness these days, most of the time what we really mean is despair, which is literally defined as the absence of hope.

chrysalism n. the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm.

kairosclerosis n. the moment you look around and realize that you’re currently happy—consciously trying to savor the feeling—which prompts your intellect to identify it, pick it apart, and put it in context, where it will slowly dissolve until it’s little more than an aftertaste.

VEMÖDALEN the fear that originality is no longer possible

To be sure, you and I and billions of others will leave our mark on this world we’ve inherited, just like the billions who came before us. But if, in the end, we find ourselves with nothing left to say, nothing new to add, idly tracing outlines left by others long ago—it’ll be as if we were never here at all. This too is not an original thought. As the poet once said, “The powerful play goes on, and you will contribute a verse.” What else is there to say? When you get your cue, you say your line.

looseleft adj. feeling a sense of loss upon finishing a good book, sensing the weight of the back cover locking away the lives of characters you’ve gotten to know so well.

jouska n. a hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head—a crisp analysis, a devastating comeback, a cathartic heart-to-heart—which serves as a kind of psychological batting cage that feels far more satisfying than the small-ball strategies of everyday life.

the Til n. the reservoir of all possible opportunities still available to you at this point in your life—all the countries you still have the energy to explore, the careers you still have the courage to pursue, the skills you still have time to develop, the relationships you still have the heart to make—like a pail of water you carry around in your head, which starts off feeling like an overwhelming burden but steadily draws down as you get older, splashing gallons over the side every time you take a step.

ASTROPHE the feeling of being stuck on Earth

Even our own moon, which seems to hang so close to Earth, is so far away that all the other planets could fit in the empty space between them.

And of all the billions of people on Earth, only twelve of them have ever pushed free and set foot on alien soil.

If nobody’s there to know we once lived here on Earth. Maybe it should be like skipping a stone across the surface of a lake. It doesn’t matter where it ends up. All that matters is that we’re here on the shore—trying to have fun and pass the time, and see how far it goes.

licotic adj. anxiously excited to introduce a friend to something you think is amazing—a classic album, a favorite restaurant, a TV show they’re lucky enough to watch for the very first time—which prompts you to continually poll their face waiting for the inevitable rush of awe, only to cringe when you discover all the work’s flaws shining through for the very first time.

OZURIE feeling torn between the life you want and the life you have

If Oz is a dream that never leaves you, so is Kansas. Life is not a flat and barren outpost, and it’s not a bangarang wonderland either. Maybe they’re just two different ways of looking at some ambiguous middle place, where she actually lives. It’s just a question of perspective, which can shift wildly depending on how she chooses to see it.

idlewild adj. feeling grateful to be stranded in a place where you can’t do much of anything—sitting for hours at an airport gate, the sleeper car of a train, or the backseat of a van on a long road trip—which temporarily alleviates the burden of being able to do anything at any time and frees up your brain to do whatever it wants to do, even if it’s just to flicker your eyes across the passing landscape.

justing n. the habit of telling yourself that just one tweak could solve all of your problems—if

wildred adj. feeling the haunting solitude of extremely remote places—a clearing in the forest, a windswept field of snow, a rest area in the middle of nowhere—which makes you feel like you’ve just intruded on a conversation that had nothing to do with you, where even the gravel beneath your feet and the trees overhead are holding themselves back to a pointed, inhospitable silence.

funkenzwangsvorstellung n. the primal trance of watching a campfire in the dark.

Even though you may be lucky enough to serve as a witness to the universe, you’re cursed by the knowledge that you can only scratch the surface of it.

heartspur n. an unexpected surge of emotion in response to a seemingly innocuous trigger—the distinctive squeal of a rusty fence, a key change in an old pop song, the hint of a certain perfume—which feels all the more intense because you can’t quite pin it down.

nementia n. the post-distraction effort to recall the reason you’re feeling particularly anxious or angry or excited, trying to retrace your sequence of thoughts like a kid gathering the string of a downed kite.

deep gut n. a resurgent emotion that you hadn’t felt in years, that you might have forgotten about completely if your emotional playlist hadn’t accidentally been left on shuffle.

trueholding n. the act of trying to keep an amazing discovery to yourself, fighting the urge to shout about it from the rooftops because you’re afraid that it’ll end up being diluted and distorted, and will no longer have been created just for you.

fool’s guilt n. a pulse of shame you feel even though you’ve done nothing wrong—passing a police car while under the speed limit, being carded after legally ordering a drink, or exiting a store without buying anything.

wellium n. an excuse you come up with to rationalize a disappointing outcome—telling yourself you weren’t in the mood for that sold-out show anyway, that your safety school is actually a better fit, that your dream job might have been a bit too stressful.

Keep to the middle course. Steal bits of wax and feathers discarded by other, better fliers. Let the sun rise and fall. Let the waves pound themselves to mist, again and again. Your task is not to be flawless. Your task is to fly.

proluctance n. the paradoxical urge to avoid doing something you’ve been looking forward to—opening a decisive letter, meeting up with a friend who’s finally back in town, reading a new book from your favorite author—perpetually waiting around for the right state of mind, stretching out the bliss of anticipation as long as you can.

rubatosis n. the unsettling awareness of your own heartbeat, whose tenuous muscular throbbing feels less like a metronome than a nervous ditty your heart is tapping to itself, as if to casually remind the outside world, I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.

leidenfreude n. a sense of paradoxical relief when something bad happens to you, which temporarily lowers your own expectations for yourself, transforming a faceless protagonist into something of an underdog, who’s that much easier to root for. German Leiden, suffering + Freude, joy. Compare Schadenfreude, joy at the misfortune of others. Pronounced “lahyd-n-froi-duh.”

the meantime n. the moment of realization that your quintessential future self isn’t ever going to show up, which forces the role to fall upon the understudy, the gawky kid who spent years mouthing their lines in the wings before being shoved into the glare of your life, which is already well into its second act.

mcfeely adj. inexplicably moved by predictable and well-worn sentiments, even if they’re trite or obvious or being broadcast blindly to the masses. From the middle name of Mr. Fred McFeely Rogers. You deserve to be happy. Your feelings matter. You are loved. You are enough.

insoucism n. the inability to decide how much sympathy your situation really deserves, knowing that so many people have it far worse and others far better, that some people would need years of therapy to overcome what you have, while others would barely think to mention it in their diary that day.

midding n. the tranquil pleasure of being near a gathering but not quite in it—hovering on the perimeter of a campfire, talking quietly outside a party, resting your eyes in the back seat of a car listening to friends chatting up front—feeling blissfully invisible yet still fully included, safe in the knowledge that everyone is together and everyone is okay, with all the thrill of being there without the burden of having to be.

mottleheaded adj. feeling uneasy when socializing with odd combinations of friends and family, or friends and colleagues, or colleagues and family—mixing a medley of ingredients that don’t typically go together, which risks either watering down your identity into gray mush, or accidentally triggering some sort of explosion.

Portuguese moledro, cairn. According to Portuguese legend, if you take a stone from a cairn and put it under a pillow, in the morning an enchanted soldier will appear for a moment, before transforming back into the stone and returning to the pile. Pronounced “moh-leh-droh.”

hickering n. the habit of falling hard for whatever pretty new acquaintance happens to come along, spending hours wallowing in the handful of details you can gather about them, connecting the dots into elaborate constellations, even imagining an entire future together—images that have no particular purpose, except that they’re kinda fun to think about.

suente n. the state of being so familiar with someone that you can be in a room with them without thinking, without holding anything back, or without having to say a word—to the extent that you have to remind yourself that they’re a different being entirely, that brushing hair away from their eyes won’t help you see any better.

lilo n. a friendship that can lie dormant for years only to pick right back up instantly, as if you’d seen each other last week—which is all the more remarkable given that certain other people can make every lull in conversation feel like an eternity. From lifelong + lie low. Pronounced “lahy-loh.”

falesia n. the disquieting awareness that someone’s importance to you and your importance to them may not necessarily match—that your best friend might only think of you as a buddy, that someone you barely know might consider you a mentor, that someone you love unconditionally might have one or two conditions. Portuguese falésia, cliff. A cliff is a dizzying meeting point between high ground and low ground. Pronounced “fuh-lee-zhuh.”

foilsick adj. feeling ashamed after revealing a little too much of yourself to someone—allowing them too clear a view of your pettiness, your anger, your cowardice, your childlike vulnerability—wishing you could somehow take back the moment, discreetly bolting the door after a storm had already blown it off its hinges. Scottish Gaelic foillsich, to expose.

AMICY the mystery of what goes on behind the scenes of your social life

los vidados n. the half-remembered acquaintances you knew years ago, who you might have forgotten completely if someone hadn’t happened to mention them again—friends of friends, people you once shared classes with, people you heard stories about, who you didn’t know well but who still made up the fabric of your intense little community—making you wonder who else might be out there somewhere, only just remembering that you exist. Spanish los olvidados, “the forgotten”—but not completely. Pronounced “lohs vee-dah-dohs.”

hubilance n. the quiet poignance of your own responsibility for someone, with a mix of pride and fear and love and humility—feeling a baby fall asleep on your chest, or driving at night surrounded by loved ones fast asleep, who trust you implicitly with their lives—a responsibility that wasn’t talked about or assigned to you, it was assumed to be yours without question. From hub, the central part of the wheel that bears the weight + jubilance. Pronounced “hyoo-buh-luhns.”

SONDER the awareness that everyone has a story You are the main character. The protagonist. The star at the center of your own unfolding story. You’re surrounded by your supporting cast: friends and family hanging in your immediate orbit. Scattered a little further out, a network of acquaintances who drift in and out of contact over the years. But there in the background, faint and out of focus, are the extras. The random passersby. Each living a life as vivid and complex as your own. They carry on invisibly around you, bearing the accumulated weight of their own ambitions, friends, routines, mistakes, worries, triumphs, and inherited craziness.

hailbound adj. mysteriously compelled to wave to passing strangers on a country road, a mountain path, or a remote stretch of water. From hail, to greet + bound, being obliged.

kenaway n. the longing to see how other people live their lives when they’re not in public; wishing you could tune in to the raw feed of another human existence, in all its messiness and solitude—shimmying in place while brushing their teeth, squabbling over where to put the shoes, talking out their problems on solitary commutes—if only to give you something to compare your own life against, and figure out whether you’re bizarrely normal or normally bizarre. From ken, one’s range of knowledge + keep-away, a game in which one player tries to intercept a ball being tossed back and forth by two others. Pronounced “ken-uh-wey.”

kuebiko n. a state of exhaustion inspired by senseless tragedies and acts of violence, which force you to abruptly revise your expectations of what can happen in this world, trying to prop yourself up like an old scarecrow, who’s bursting at the seams yet powerless to do anything but stand there and watch. In Japanese mythology, Kuebiko is the name of a kami deity, a scarecrow who stands all day watching the world go by, which has made him very wise but locked in place. Pronounced “koo-web-i-koh.”