what you know today seems to be what you have always known. explain what this means.

We feel more than than nosotros have the language to clear and express, which is in itself profoundly frustrating. People work through emotions by being able to identify them and use them every bit signals. A lot of the fourth dimension, nosotros're left in the dark. Enter the Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows, the brainchild of writer John Koenig, who is here to give you lot words for the feelings you lot may not have even known you lot were having. Here are 40 words to describe your emotions.

Onism

due north. the awareness of how niggling of the globe yous'll experience. Imagine continuing in front of the departures screen at an airport, flickering over with strange place names similar other people's passwords, each representing one more than thing y'all'll never go to meet earlier yous dice—and all because, every bit the arrow on the map helpfully points out, you are hither.

Mal de Coucou

north. a miracle in which you have an active social life but very few shut friends—people who you lot tin can trust, who you lot can exist yourself with, who can help flush out the weird psychological toxins that tend to accumulate over time—which is a course of astute social malnutrition in which fifty-fifty if you devour an entire buffet of chitchat, y'all'll still experience pangs of hunger.

Sonder

n. the realization that each random passerby is living a life equally bright and complex as your own—populated with their ain ambitions, friends, routines, worries and inherited craziness—an epic story that continues invisibly around you lot like an anthill sprawling deep hugger-mugger, with elaborate passageways to thousands of other lives that you'll never know existed, in which you lot might announced only once, as an actress sipping coffee in the groundwork, as a blur of traffic passing on the highway, as a lighted window at dusk.

Hanker Sore

adj. finding a person so attractive it actually kinda pisses you off.

Chrysalism

n. the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm, listening to waves of rain pattering against the roof similar an argument upstairs, whose muffled words are unintelligible merely whose crackling release of built-up tension you lot empathise perfectly.

Altschmerz

n. weariness with the same old issues that you've always had—the same boring flaws and anxieties you lot've been gnawing on for years, which leaves them soggy and tasteless and inert, with zilch interesting left to call up about, nothing left to do only spit them out and wander off to the lawn, ready to dig up some fresher hurting you might accept buried long ago.

Occhiolism

north. the awareness of the smallness of your perspective, by which you couldn't maybe draw any meaningful conclusions at all, about the world or the by or the complexities of culture, because although your life is an epic and unrepeatable anecdote, it even so merely has a sample size of one, and may end upwards being the control for a much wilder experiment happening in the next room.

Ambedo

due north. a kind of melancholic trance in which you become completely absorbed in brilliant sensory details—raindrops skittering downward a window, tall trees leaning in the air current, clouds of cream swirling in your coffee—briefly soaking in the experience of being alive, an act that is done purely for its own sake.

Nodus Tollens

northward. the realization that the plot of your life doesn't make sense to you anymore—that although you thought you were following the arc of the story, you lot keep finding yourself immersed in passages you lot don't understand, that don't even seem to belong in the same genre—which requires you to go dorsum and reread the chapters you had originally skimmed to get to the good parts, only to learn that all along yous were supposed to choose your own risk.

Liberosis

north. the desire to care less about things—to loosen your grip on your life, to stop glancing behind y'all every few steps, afraid that someone will snatch it from you before yous reach the end zone—rather to hold your life loosely and playfully, like a volleyball, keeping information technology in the air, with only quick fleeting interventions, bouncing freely in the hands of trusted friends, always in play.

Vemödalen

due north. the frustration of photographing something amazing when thousands of identical photos already exist—the same sunset, the aforementioned waterfall, the same curve of a hip, the aforementioned closeup of an eye—which can turn a unique subject into something hollow and pulpy and cheap, like a mass-produced piece of furniture you lot happen to accept assembled yourself.

Kairosclerosis

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

Vellichor

due north. the strange wistfulness of used bookstores, which are somehow infused with the passage of fourth dimension—filled with thousands of erstwhile books you'll never have fourth dimension to read, each of which is itself locked in its ain era, bound and dated and papered over like an former room the author abandoned years agone, a hidden addendum littered with thoughts left just as they were on the day they were captured.

Rückkehrunruhe

n. the feeling of returning habitation after an immersive trip just to find information technology fading chop-chop from your sensation—to the extent you accept to keep reminding yourself that it happened at all, fifty-fifty though information technology felt so vivid just days ago—which makes you wish you lot could smoothly cross-dissolve dorsum into everyday life, or just hold the shutter open indefinitely and let ane scene become superimposed on the next, so all your days would run together and you'd never have to phone call cut.

Nighthawk

n. a recurring idea that but seems to strike you late at nighttime—an overdue task, a nagging guilt, a looming and shapeless future—that circles loftier overhead during the solar day, that pecks at the back of your mind while you try to sleep, that you tin successfully ignore for weeks, only to experience its presence hovering outside the window, waiting for you to stop your coffee, passing the time past quietly building a nest.

Dead Reckoning

n. to find yourself bothered by someone's decease more than you would have expected, as if you assumed they would always be part of the landscape, like a lighthouse you could pass by for years until the night it all of a sudden goes dark, leaving you lot with one less landmark to navigate by—still able to find your bearings, only feeling all that much more adrift.

Pâro

n. the feeling that no thing what you do is always somehow wrong—that any attempt to make your way comfortably through the globe will only end up crossing some invisible taboo—as if there's some obvious way forwards that everybody else can see but you, each of them leaning back in their chair and calling out helpfully, colder, colder, colder.

Midsummer

n. a feast celebrated on the 24-hour interval of your 26th birthday, which marks the point at which your youth finally expires as a valid excuse—when y'all must begin harvesting your crops, even if they've barely taken root—and the point at which the days will begin to feel shorter as they pass, until even the pollen in the air reminds y'all of the coming snow.

Adronitis

n. frustration with how long it takes to go to know someone—spending the outset few weeks chatting in their psychological entryway, with each subsequent conversation like entering a different foyer, each a lilliputian closer to the centre of the house—wishing instead that you could first at that place and work your way out, exchanging your deepest secrets kickoff, earlier easing into casualness, until you've built upward plenty mystery over the years to inquire them where they're from, and what they do for a living.

Rigor Samsa

northward. a kind of psychological exoskeleton that can protect you from pain and contain your anxieties, simply always ends up groovy nether pressure or hollowed out by fourth dimension—and will keep growing back again and once more, until yous develop a more than sophisticated emotional structure, held up by a strong and flexible spine, congenital less like a fortress than a cluster of treehouses.

Silience

n. the kind of unnoticed excellence that carries on around yous every day, unremarkably—the hidden talents of friends and coworkers, the fleeting solos of subway buskers, the slapdash eloquence of anonymous users, the unseen portfolios of aspiring artists—which would be renowned as masterpieces if just they'd been appraised by the cartel of popular taste, who assume that brilliance is a rare and precious quality, accidentally overlooking buried jewels that may non be flawless simply are still somehow perfect.

Fitzcarraldo

n. an image that somehow becomes lodged deep in your brain—perhaps washed in that location by a dream, or smuggled within a book, or planted during a coincidental chat—which so grows into a wild and impractical vision that keeps scrambling dorsum and forth in your head like a dog stuck in a machine that's about to arrive dwelling house, just itching for a run a risk to leap headlong into reality.

Keyframe

n. a moment that seemed innocuous at the fourth dimension simply ended upward marking a diversion into a foreign new era of your life—set in motion non by a serial of jolting epiphanies only by tiny imperceptible differences between i ordinary twenty-four hour period and the side by side, until entire years of your memory can be compressed into a handful of enduring images—which prevents you from rewinding the past, but allows you to motion forwards without endless buffering.

Gnossienne

n. a moment of awareness that someone you've known for years still has a private and mysterious inner life, and somewhere in the hallways of their personality is a door locked from the within, a stairway leading to a fly of the firm that you've never fully explored—an unfinished attic that will remain maddeningly unknowable to you, because ultimately neither of you has a map, or a chief key, or whatsoever way of knowing exactly where you stand.

Anecdoche

northward. a conversation in which everyone is talking but nobody is listening, merely overlaying asunder words like a game of Scrabble, with each thespian borrowing bits of other anecdotes as a way to increase their own score, until we all run out of things to say.

Catoptric Tristesse

n. the sadness that you'll never really know what other people recollect of you, whether expert, bad or if at all—that although we reflect on each other with the sharpness of a mirror, the true picture of how we're coming off somehow reaches us softened and distorted, as if each mirror was preoccupied with twisting effectually, desperately trying to await itself in the eye.

Anemoia

due north. nostalgia for a time you've never known. Imagine stepping through the frame into a sepia-tinted haze, where yous could sit on the side of the road and spotter the locals passing by. Who lived and died before whatsoever of us arrived here, who slumber in some of the same houses nosotros do, who look up at the same moon, who breathe the same air, feel the same blood in their veins—and live in a completely unlike world.

Mimeomia

northward. the frustration of knowing how easily you fit into a stereotype, fifty-fifty if you never intended to, even if information technology'south unfair, even if everyone else feels the aforementioned way—each of us trick-or-treating for money and respect and attention, wearing a safe and predictable costume because we're tired of answering the question, "What are you lot supposed to be?"

Monachopsis

n. the subtle merely persistent feeling of being out of place, as maladapted to your surroundings equally a seal on a embankment—lumbering, clumsy, easily distracted, huddled in the company of other misfits, unable to recognize the ambient roar of your intended habitat, in which you'd be fluidly, brilliantly, effortlessly at home.

Semaphorism

n. a conversational hint that you have something personal to say on the subject but don't go any further—an emphatic nod, a half-told anecdote, an enigmatic 'I know the feeling'—which y'all place into conversations like those little flags that warn diggers of something buried underground: perchance a cable that secretly powers your house, peradventure a fiberoptic link to some foreign state.

Énouement

north. the bittersweetness of having arrived hither in the future, where you can finally become the answers to how things turn out in the existent world—who your baby sis would become, what your friends would end up doing, where your choices would pb you, exactly when you'd lose the people you took for granted—which is priceless intel that you lot instinctively want to share with anybody who hadn't already made the journeying, every bit if in that location was some part of you who had volunteered to stay backside, who was still stationed at a forgotten outpost somewhere in the by, however eagerly pending news from the front.

Daguerreologue

due north. an imaginary interview with an old photo of yourself, an enigmatic effigy who nevertheless lives in the grainy and color-warped house y'all grew up in, who may well spend a lot of their day wondering where yous are and what you're doing now, like an old grandma whose kids live far abroad and don't telephone call much anymore.

Fata Organa

northward. a wink of real emotion glimpsed in someone sitting across the room, idly locked in the centre of some group conversation, their eyes glinting with vulnerability or quiet anticipation or cosmic boredom—equally if y'all could see backstage through a gap in the defunction, watching stagehands property their ropes at the ready, actors in costume mouthing their lines, fragments of bizarre sets waiting for some other production.

Avenoir

n. the desire that memory could flow backward. We have it for granted that life moves forward. But you motion as a rower moves, facing backwards: you can see where yous've been, but not where you're going. And your boat is steered by a younger version of y'all. Information technology'due south hard not to wonder what life would exist like facing the other style…

Kenopsia

due north. the eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that's unremarkably bustling with people simply is now abandoned and tranquillity—a school hallway in the evening, an unlit office on a weekend, vacant fairgrounds—an emotional afterimage that makes it seem not just empty only hyper-empty, with a total population in the negative, who are and so conspicuously absent-minded they glow like neon signs.

The Tilt Shift

n. a miracle in which your lived feel seems oddly inconsequential once you put it down on newspaper, which turns an epic tragicomedy into a sequence of figures on a model train fix, assembled in their tiny classrooms and workplaces, wandering along their own cautious and well-trodden paths—peaceable, generic and out of focus.

Jouska

n. a hypothetical conversation that you compulsively play out in your head—a crisp assay, a cathartic dialogue, a devastating comeback—which serves equally a kind of psychological batting cage where yous tin connect more securely with people than in the small-scale ball of everyday life, which is a frustratingly cautious game of alter-up pitches, sacrifice bunts, and intentional walks.

Ecstatic Shock

n. the surge of free energy upon communicable a glance from someone you like—a thrill that starts in your stomach, arcs up through your lungs and flashes into a spontaneous smile—which scrambles your ungrounded circuits and tempts you to chase that feeling with a kite and a key.

Heartworm

n. a relationship or friendship that y'all tin can't get out of your head, which you idea had faded long ago only is still somehow alive and unfinished, like an abandoned campsite whose smoldering embers still have the power to commencement a forest burn down.

Xeno

n. the smallest measurable unit of human connection, typically exchanged between passing strangers—a flirtatious glance, a sympathetic nod, a shared laugh about some odd coincidence—moments that are fleeting and random but still comprise powerful emotional nutrients that can convalesce the symptoms of feeling alone.

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When Yous're Gear up, This Is How You Heal

Healing is not a one-time event.

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Source: https://thoughtcatalog.com/brianna-wiest/2016/02/40-words-for-emotions-youve-felt-but-couldnt-explain/

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