Tag Archives: Words

Words For Things We Have No Word For {7} ~ Flashover

The moment a conversation becomes real and alive, which occurs when a spark of trust shorts out the delicate circuits you keep insulated under layers of irony, momentarily grounding the static emotional charge you’ve built up through decades of friction with the world.

Source: https://www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com/page/2

Words For Things We Have No Word For {5} ~ Altschmerz

A weariness with the same old issues that you’ve always had—the same boring flaws and anxieties you’ve been gnawing on for years, which leaves them soggy and tasteless and inert, with nothing interesting left to think about, nothing left to do but spit them out and wander off to the backyard, ready to dig up some fresher pain you might have buried long ago.

Source: https://www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com/page/2

Words For Things We Have No Word For {4} ~ Aftersome

Aftersome ~ Astonished to think back on the bizarre sequence of accidents that brought you to where you are today—as if you’d spent years bouncing down a Plinko pegboard, passing through a million harmless decision points, any one of which might’ve changed everything—which makes your long and winding path feel fated from the start, yet so unlikely as to be virtually impossible.

Source: https://www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com/

Words For Things We Have No Word For {3} ~ Ringlorn

Ringlorn ~ The wish that the modern world felt as epic as the one depicted in old stories and folktales—a place of tragedy and transcendence, of oaths and omens and fates, where everyday life felt like a quest for glory, a mythic bond with an ancient past, or a battle for survival against a clear enemy, rather than an open-ended parlor game where all the rules are made up and the points don’t matter.

Source: https://www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com/

Words For Things We Have No Word For {1} ~ Onism

Onism ~ The frustration of being stuck in just one body, that inhabits only one place at a time, which is like standing in front of the departures screen at an airport, flickering over with strange place names like other people’s passwords, each representing one more thing you’ll never get to see before you die—and all because, as the arrow on the map helpfully points out, you are here.

Source: https://www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows.com/