Sonder 
is 
a 
term 
that 
describes the realization that 
each random passerby is living 
a life as vivid and complex 
as your own; in essence, the 
word strikes a sense of not 
only sorrow due to meaning 
itself, but also comfort, an 
echo that radiates between 
the two syllables and connects 
the six letters into a hopeful 
hopelessness. 
When 
I 
first 
learned about the word, I was 
listening to my playlist as a new 
song by Brent Faiyaz popped 
up in my recommendations: 
“Sonder 
Son.” 
Intrigued, 
I pressed the play button, 
immediately 
enraptured 
by 
the smoothness of his voice 
and even more by the meaning 
behind the song title itself. 
In Faiyaz’s song, as with the 
word, there’s a sense of sadness 
that reveals itself due to the 
idea that the stories and the 
lives of others will never truly 
be our own. While intriguing 
and also complex, this concept 
also renders a sense of sorrow 
that we can never claim as our 
own. Coined by John Koenig, 
the creator of the Dictionary of 
“Obscure Sorrows,” the word 
most hauntingly reveals that 
we are “merely an extra” to 
someone else’s story. Perhaps 
it is the awareness that our 

part to play is not the leading 
role, that we are mere specks 
of grain in a grand cosmos, 
that we exist simply to fulfill 
the lives of others. These 
tumbling thoughts can send us 
spiraling into an existential, 
earth-shattering philosophical 
dilemma — at least it did for 
me. 
As with most trends, social 
media has brought about new 
takes on and concepts that 
are repeated by those who are 
influenced by such videos or 
content. One particular idea 
that has surfaced over the 
past few years is that of being 
the “main character,” that we 
are indeed the lead stars of 
this show we call life and that 
everyone around us is merely a 
participant or side actor to each 
season of the series. Our story 
becomes the most important 
one because it is entirely our 
own, and therefore, everyone 
around us defines the timeline 
of our story. We stare out the 
bus windows listening to sad 
music so we feel like our pain 
means something. We order 
intricate coffee in aesthetically 
pleasing coffee shops where 
ivy hangs from the ceiling 
and fairy lights twinkle in the 
background. We read our books 
about self-care and positive 
affirmations. 
Main character syndrome, as 
it’s been defined, may give the 
once unseen person a chance to 

experience life through a lens 
of admiration and love of their 
own life, a romanticization and 
coping mechanism for the pain 
that life may bring. But at the 
same time, the reinvention of 
oneself into the main character 
may instead come with a lack 
of empathy, awareness and 
accountability. This is where 
sonder’s beauty and mystery 
come in. Everyone has a story, 
but the fact is that we will 
never 
know 
anyone’s 
story 
completely but our own. Telling 
someone 
our 
complexities, 
fears, triumphs and struggles 
is never the same as actually 
experiencing them. We each 
have our own heartbreaks, 
losses, pain and grief, but so 
does that person sitting right 
next to you on the bus. So does 
that person who sits near you 
in your psychology class, the 
girl whose tote bag is covered 
in eclectic pins, the professor 
who never smiles, the frail lady 
whose wrinkles hold mysteries 
and whose laugh lights up the 
sky. 
It’s 8:30 a.m. I stand outside 
the bus stop while the chilling 
wind brushes against the side 
of my cheek, furrowing my 
hands deeper into my pockets. 
As soon as the bus comes rolling 
down to the stop, people move 
closer to the doors, pushing 
and clamoring in an attempt to 
make it on the bus. 
In a school with more than 

40,000 students, one cannot 
help but feel like an extra to 
life. In the midst of the bustling 
crowd, there are the students 
with accolades and awards, the 
prettier versions of yourself, 
the better test takers, the more 
studious students and the less 
lonely. With such a school 
comes great unity, but also a 
prolonged sense of loneliness. 
The 
romanticization 
and 
main-character 
centeredness 
that many rely on for a sense 
of comfort allows one to feel 
special, in a sense, within their 
own way. Yet there again comes 
sonder, which reminds us that 
each of the 40,000 students 
here at the University has a 
life as varied, complex and rich 
as our own. Koenig takes care 
to describe sonder as “an epic 
story that continues invisibly 
around you like an anthill 
sprawling deep underground, 
with elaborate passageways to 
thousands of other lives that 
you’ll never know existed, in 
which you might appear only 
once, as an extra sipping coffee 
in the background, as a blur of 
traffic passing on the highway, 
as a lighted window at dusk.” 
One of the reasons that the 
realization of sonder often 
may strike a harsh chord is 
because 
humans 
strive 
so 
deeply to be distinct, to be 
unique and special from their 
counterparts. 
People 
who 
endeavor for a unique sense of 

distinctiveness often search 
for opportunities where their 
uniqueness can be exhibited, 
and try to live as their most 
authentic selves. With this, 
however, 
also 
comes 
the 
sense of belonging, and the 
balance 
of 
self-authenticity 
and group identity is one of 
the most important aspects 
that 
plays 
into 
one’s 
self-
esteem. 
Particularly, 
main 
character syndrome stresses 
the importance of individuality 
and living life as authentically 
as one can. Sonder reclaims 
this individuality as a concept 
that 
focuses 
on 
not 
one 
singular person but the unique 
experiences as the collective 
individual. 
I grip the metal rail as the 
early, packed bus was quiet and 
loud all at the same time. In the 
back sits a person who cradles 
a half-eaten bagel sandwich 
in her hand, crumbs on the 
sides of her mouth while she 
talks loudly but tenderly on the 
phone with someone who I can 
only assume to be her mom. 
Next to her sits the person who 
watches Netflix on their phone, 
snickering every five seconds 
while some try to get a glimpse 
of what they are watching. 
Then, the bus driver: Humming 
the 
words 
of 
his 
favorite 
song under his breath while 
sipping his morning coffee. 
This right here is sonder: 
watching 
others 
experience 

their daily lives through a lens 
of understanding, an almost 
type of frustration that one 
is unable to truly understand 
their story. 
I’m not saying that sonder 
entails not feeling like your 
own life doesn’t matter. In fact, 
I believe quite the opposite. 
Sonder makes one appreciate 
the beauty that is present in 
one’s own life. It is a revelation, 
an exposition, an unveiling of 
the beautiful, the mundane, the 
terrible and the ugly. Sonder’s 
beauty lies in the fact that it 
is not all beautiful, yet that 
there can be beauty found in 
the not beautiful, that each of 
us is simply trying to live but 
also to be appreciated in all our 
complexity.
So maybe we are all the 
main 
characters. 
Because 
what sonder reveals is that 
all of us have a leading role, 
but also a much smaller part 
to play. Sonder makes us both 
appreciate the beauty and the 
insignificance of our lives. 
It allows us to look from an 
outsider’s perspective but also 
from an insider one, allowing us 
to open to various perspectives 
and revealing how not all of 
life’s mysteries need to be 
solved. Sonder, in the sense of 
the word, grants us the chance 
for connection with others in a 
way that truly allows us to feel 
and empathize. This is what 
sonder beautifully reveals.

S T A T E M E N T

8 — Wednesday, April 5, 2023
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com

CHINWE ONWERE
Statement Columnist 

What ‘sonder’ most beautifully reveals

Design by Haylee Bohm

