I think about sonder a lot. The idea that everyone you brush past on a crowded street has a whole entire world in their chest: heartbreaks, 2 a.m. playlists, inside jokes with people you’ll never meet. To them, you’re just an extra in the background of their commute.
And then a random coincidence happens: a delayed train, spilled chai, an accidental conversation on a balcony that stretches until sunrise. They say if two people are meant to meet, life will keep folding the map until your paths cross again. It’s like the world shrinks on purpose, refusing to let you stay strangers.
It’s funny how a single hour can carry completely different weights depending on whose hands are holding it. For some, a prologue; for some, an epilogue- and for you, that exact night was just Chapter Seven, the messy, unexpected turning point where your whole life quietly shifted right when you thought you were only halfway through the plot.
And once you let someone in, it’s done. Their story slips into yours.
You start taking your coffee a certain way because they mentioned it once. A song they put you on becomes the only thing that keeps you grounded on late drives. You catch yourself using their slang, listening to their artists, or laughing the way they do, and you realize we’re just collages.
You’re literally made of pieces of everyone who stayed for an hour, a season, or a year. Even if you never speak again, the ink doesn’t wash off. Their chapter is stitched right into yours.
~Janya
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