#sonder

So many paths that Will never cross~

Setiap langkah kaki yang bersisian,

Setiap wajah asing yang kita temu di trotoar,

adalah paragraf-paragraf kehidupan yang tak akan pernah kita baca sampai akhir.

Masing-masing kepala membawa dunia yang penuh cerita kehidupan penuh tawa, luka, dan mungkin harapan yang tak pernah tergapai.

Ternyata, Kita adalah satu dari ribuan kisah yang sedang berjalan bersamaan. Bahwa, tiap insan sama-sama memiliki kehidupan yang kompleks & riuhnya.

Maka sebenarnya, Kita tidaklah pernah sendiri, sekalipun jalan kita tak pernah bertemu. Karena tidak semua pertemuan ditakdirkan untuk menjadi cerita.

Sebagian hanya cukup menjadi pengingat, bahwa dunia tak hanya berputar hanya untuk satu orang. Namun dunia berputar bersama-sama dengan tiap kepala.

Long before I learned there was a word for it, I had already been living it.

I have always been fascinated by the invisible lives people carry within them—the conversations they have with themselves that no one else will ever hear, the memories they revisit in silence, the burdens they shoulder without ever speaking of them. Every person I pass feels like a book that has already lived through countless chapters, yet I will only ever glimpse its cover.

I first became aware of this feeling back in college.

Every week, I would ride a bus from my hometown to the city where I studied. Halfway through the journey, the bus would stop at a terminal bustling with people. As the engine quieted and the doors folded open, life unfolded before me in fragments.

There was the saleslady arranging fresh bread in the bakery. The dispatcher calling out destinations in a voice that had probably repeated the same words thousands of times. Drivers leaning against parked buses, waiting for another trip. Passengers embracing loved ones, strangers hurrying past one another, children tugging at their parents' sleeves.

Everyone was going somewhere.

Everyone had already come from somewhere.

Then there was a man with a disability.

He had no legs—only his torso and his arms. I watched him move with a determination that made every inch of progress look painstakingly earned. It wasn't pity that stopped me. It was curiosity, followed almost immediately by humility.

I found myself wondering what his world looked like.

What dreams kept him awake at night? What disappointments had shaped him? What victories had no audience? What kind of future did he imagine for himself? What did happiness mean to someone who had lived a life I could never fully comprehend?

For a brief moment, I wanted to see the world through his eyes.

And then another realization settled quietly over me.

I never could.

No matter how deeply I empathized or how carefully I imagined his life, I would always be standing outside it. I would forever be looking through a window, never living inside the room.

That thought has stayed with me ever since.

Sometimes it happens while I'm waiting in line at a coffee shop. Sometimes while sitting in traffic. Sometimes while watching someone laugh with friends or cry alone in a place they think no one notices. I catch myself wondering about the stories hidden behind ordinary faces.

We spend so much of our lives believing we are the main character of the world, when in truth, every person we pass is living a life just as vivid, complicated, and meaningful as our own. They have people they miss, fears they hide, dreams they're still chasing, and battles that remain invisible to everyone else.

Perhaps that is what makes humanity so beautiful.

Not that we can fully understand one another, but that we keep trying despite knowing we never completely will.