Words can't describe* the joy I feel when I ran across John Koenig's Dictionary of Obscure Sorrows website, which is dedicated to coining new words that define specific types of sadness. Like the pain of realizing that the plot of your life doesn't make sense to you anymore (nodus tollens), the frustration of knowing how easily you fit into a sterotype even if you never intended to (mimeomia), or an imaginary conversation with an old photo of yourself (daguerreologue).
*At least until Koenig starts another website, dedicated to coining new words describing specific types of joys.
The first question people would ask when they run across one of Koenig's words is whether they are made up. The answer is simple: Yes, these are made up words - but they're carefully made up words. Koenig (who "enjoys piano jazz, deep image poetry, wines of indeterminate types, canyons and nostalgia - just the sorts of stuff you'd expect from an expert wordsmith) crafts each words carefully with proper etymology - things like word roots, prefixes, suffixes and so on.
Koenig stated that each original definition aims to fill a hole in the language, to give a name to an emotion we all feel but dont' have a word for.
The second question is implicit in the first one: whether they should use Koenig's made up words in real life. The answer is equally simple: Yes, because aren't all words made up in the beginning? Koenig quoted lexicographer Erin McKean, founder of Wordnik and previous editor in chief of US Dictionaries for Oxford University Press and principal editor of the New Oxford American Dictionary (2nd ed.): "People say to me, ‘How do I know if a word is real?’ You know, anybody who’s read a children’s book knows that love makes things real. If you love a word, use it—that makes it real. Being in the dictionary is an arbitrary distinction; it doesn’t make a word any more real than any other way. If you love a word, it becomes real."
So, without further ado, here are 10 of the most beautiful completely made-up words that describe specific, obscure sorrows:
1. Sonder
n. The realization that each random passerby is living a life as vivid and complex as your own.
2. Vemödalen
n. The frustration of photographing something amazing when thousands of identical photos already exist—the same sunset, the same waterfall, the same curve of a hip, the same 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 happen to have assembled yourself.
3. Vellichor
n. The strange wistfulness of used bookstores, which are somehow infused with the passage of time—filled with thousands of old books you’ll never have time to read, each of which is itself locked in its own era, bound and dated and papered over like an old room the author abandoned years ago, a hidden annex littered with thoughts left just as they were on the day they were captured.