Reverse Sonder
Sonder-The profound feeling of realizing that everyone, including strangers passed in the street, has a life as complex as one's own, which they are constantly living despite one's personal lack of awareness of it.
Cars pass outside. Blaring horns and loud engines flare, headlights blind passersby as their beams cut sharply through the chill night atmosphere. The cafe’s “open” sign buzzes, barely audible beneath the hyperactive nightlife of the city. Families eat, couple’s blether and blather, and among the cheeriness stands a lone soul with a cold cup of plain black coffee wielding empty hands and closed borders. He sits in the corner away from the mess of people, steeping in his own emptiness, stooping to a depth all his own. Dead, alone, lost, hopeless, ambitionless, aimless; all words that come to his mind as he stares at his coffee...into his own soul. A patron of emptiness filling a seat which bears the weight of nobody. The coffee on the table leaves no ring, the empty enigma who drinks it leaves no mark. His focus shifts from his own table, he looks around at a field of folk with purpose and duty: Parents, spouses, businessmen and lovers. Who among them were as lacking as this cornered individual? Cornered into a job he hates in a world he hates, cornered into a seat across from nobody and a coffee to match.
There would be no story as long as the camera was on him.
There would be no question with a pleasing answer.
There would be only void, only apathy, only- The crash was heard around the block. The car was sent straight through the front of the cafe pummeling everyone with debris as it swerved off the road. The bum, who had until then been motionless, arose from his lonely table and exited through the new hole. He set out on the next long lonely road of his life.
~~~
A long stretch of pavement lay ahead. A long stretch trailed behind. The deep blue car reflected a dreary, unkempt world off its body. The passengers within reflected a similar world within themselves. Father, mother and two kids sat headed to a destination of unimportance. The kids screamed and squirmed making a mess of the leather seats. The woman turned from the madness, ignoring it to the best of her abilities. The man stared at the road as his brain continued steering itself away from the frustrations behind him. 30 mph. The man's past was never something he brought up. His mind avoided it at all costs. Dread, then death, then depression, more death, anxiety, debt, death again. A road trip cross country was not ideal under the circumstances of a funeral. But the man kept his eyes forward and tried again to slow the wheels of the unfortunate thoughts in his mind. 35 mph. The woman next to him was a distraction he didn’t need, as she began blabbering about something he didn’t want to hear. Her voice on his right came from right field commenting on his extended family. He didn’t have the energy for it. He turned on the radio. 45 mph. The road continued straight for miles. He wanted to just veer off, to go somewhere- anywhere else but he had responsibilities. He couldn’t afford the luxuries of another man’s life, he had a road ahead of him and he must follow it. His anger dramatically rose; he pounded the steering wheel causing distress to the passengers of his blue cruising missile. 55 mph. He couldn’t focus, his energy was gone, his emotions came crashing in on him. The cars around him flashed by in all their grandeur, left in the dust of his homely hatchback. His past opened in the back of his mind as all the sounds -the kids, the wife, the radio, the busy streets- became drowned out by the chaos within himself. A sharp red jacketed individual jumped into the street ahead. The family car had to swerve at 60 mph directly careening into the building to its right. As glass and rubble surrounded the blue shame, the inside erupted into calm.
~~~
Darkness, and serenity was overwhelmingly present at the office. Every man, woman and intern gracefully swept away into the night. 180 minutes past regular hours a singular worker finally left for the night. Her blank white screen provided the only light inside the room. Its bright, white light would fight the sight of the laborer and discomfort her pre-muddied mind. Her head felt heavy, swelling upon her weighted shoulders. It begged for the comfort and soothing compression within the embrace between her knees. Flustered by workload and unaccompanied by personal gratification, the worn out suit pondered her future as she gathered her things. Hundreds of hours, sweat and tears had been poured into her vague, commercial work. The promise of affirmation and peace waited around the corner but the corner was always out of reach; mockingly standing across a stretch of monotony and labor. She stepped into the elevator -no one else had been on it for hours- it was silent and cold and dark, an atmosphere that seemed to follow throughout the building. The elevator slid ajar revealing another void room. More abandoned desks and blank screens appeared, tinted windows revealed dimly the busy and exciting nightlife of the city. The thick glass kept the white-collar at a distance from it. Labor as they may, the windows were inoperable and unopenable. Every wall was built to keep the outside out and the inside in. She turned from the window and grabbed her coat -an expensive, red sports coat. Past the empty lobby and front desk, the doors loomed taller than they had ever seemed before. Pushing past them into the chilly unforgiving night the white collared worker, armored by a sheet of bold red luxury, stepped out onto the street obliviously greeting the headlights of destiny.
~~~
A destiny may or may not await the young writer who sits in his room. He expresses thoughts and personality through a world which doesn’t exist; locked within a room of his own creation with walls designed to keep himself at bay. An amalgam of anxieties and doubts types away at the computer as the dim glow fills his vision and the vivid stories and images fill his head. People he's never met nor been, places he’s never gone, and experiences he's only dreamt of are found intimidating and out of reach but can be put on paper. The waver in his thoughts continues for a short period; he knows he should be asleep, but he is kept awake by the ever present uncertainty of his approaching life.
He waits silently staring at his screen, hoping.
He waits for an escape, an alternate route or a memorable moment.
He waits for a crash that is all his own.
Reverse Sonder-The profound realization that you don’t have to be “the” main character to be “a” main character, whose life is just as important as everyone else’s despite your insecurities telling you otherwise.
