wallow

In the darkness, she listened to the silence. She wallowed in the beautiful nothing it made.

If one bad thing befell me, I immediately linked it to every bad thing that had happened in the last week or might happen in the coming week. And when I became sad, I was prone to wallow in grief, piling up my woes and sprawling on them like a dragon on a hoard.

The world brazenly touts freedom as both the inalienable right and morally liberating justification to mindlessly play in the filth that lies all around me. And the slight bit of sanity that yet remains within me asks, __hat raging madness would prompt me to incessantly wallow in the very things that will eventually swallow me?

We don't go back to wallow, we go back to undo the lies that are back there that are holding its captive from living a wondrous and full life.

It is better to revel in life than to wallow in it.

Why wait to forgive and let go only after you have sufficiently wallowed in your despair? Why not forgive and let go now?

The day might come when I had nothing but memories, and the choice of whether to indulge my romantic side and wallow in them, or my cynical side and reflect on the reliability.

Only God understands how incredibly far we__e fallen, and only God understands how incredibly far we can rise. And only we can determine if we__e going to wallow in the mediocrity that is born of the refusal to understand either.