I could wallow in reality as much as I want, but escapism prevails .
Once upon the time I realized the older I was getting the less time I had left to live. I realized also that I needed to stop doing things that didn’t satisfy me or at least create the feeling of sense. So, I stopped doing chores, like tidying up and spent more time in looking for things lost in my untidy rooms.
i wallow.
it’s what i do everyday.
in self pity.
in rage.
in misery.
in despair.
in humiliation.
in embarrassment.
and in that rare moment of beauty,
and of inexplicable, incredible joy
i wallow.
She tired not to wallow in her fear. Most of humanity had died in a single instant; it seemed to her stupid to fret about the fact that she’d been lucky enough to be given the chance to die slowly, probably painfully, over the course of a few months.
She wallowed in her misery like it was a fine wine She wallowed in her guilt like lotion. Rubbing it in until it could no longer be seen. but the worry, the guilt, the regret was still there.
MsLanaK
She sat there in her own filth, completely unable to move. It wasn’t for a lack of motor function. No, it was because she had no will. No will to live. No will to die. She sat there in her chair, in the dark corner of the room, and stared into the all-consuming darkness.
alayna
The pig wallowed in the mud. And I watched it from the side of the fence. What a boring site. What a boring life. I can’t believe I am stuck in this small town. Will I ever get out of here? I look up and see the first star of the evening and make my wish on it: Please give me a way to escape from this town.
I don’t have much faith in that wish as things like that have never worked out for me before. My dreams get crushed faster than these pigs finish their food. I’ve got to do something.
wallow in the world , wallow in whats around you . Everything seems okay until its not . Everything seems beautiful until jealousy makes things ugly . Wallow in the world , wallow in whats around you . It won’t be there for long.
Maryori
It’s always so tempting to wallow in negative thoughts. Need more positivity.
i sit and wallow in the now and wonder who it is i am. am i a writer am i a poet will my writing ever mean anything to anybody. these are the things i wallow in: uncertainty and fear but i don’t want to wallow, I want to wade. wade out and face it all and tell the world hello.
marie
The tears did not fall. The sobbing did not come. The cold, dead look in her eyes showed me enough about how she was wallowing in the tragedy of surviving the exam.
I wallow by the pond in the woods. I love the squishy feeling of mud squeezing through my toes. Giggling and squealing my cheeks are dirty like a little pig. Mud is my favorite. When my mother finds out how I ruined my pretty pink smock, I’m sure she’ll be furious.
Try not to wallow, she said as I stared vacantly into my half eaten bowl of fruit loops. How can I not wallow?, I thought to myself. Isn’t wallowing part of healing? It is quite tiring though. She’s probably right. Enough of this wallowing nonsense, time to man up
Rupert Todd
wallow and swallow. I think of Gilmore Girls- when Rory broke up with Dean and Lorelai told her to wallow- She refused because she didn’t want to be “that girl” Wallow means to feel low and shallow and to sink into a pit- maybe like self pity? I know the feeling of wallow- I wish I didn’t. Shallow… oh I already said that. Uh
Charissa
It’s like a sickness engulfing him, a black, sticky mess of hatred that he sinks down into and becomes part of. And some day, there will be nothing of him left–just the spiraling depression going ever downward.
The man wallowed in the conner of the bar. If one more person came to offer him a drink, he might just go and die. Three had asked him already, but he didn’t drink. It never seemed to sit well with him. He never liked the idea of not being at full capacity. But then again he never liked the idea of feeling something when he didn’t have to.
Daniels
He wallowed in the corner ready for the punishment. He had finally done it he had rebelled in the most devious way possible. There was no mercy for this just death. That’s what awaited him Death
Izzy
“It does one no good to wallow, dear,” the elder woman said, resting her hand in the center of her back, “The past is in the past and cannot be undone,”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” she snarled, or tried too. It was hard to summon the anger, now. Honestly, right now it was hard to feel anything but pain.
She tutted in a matter so condescending that Ilena couldn’t help but smile into the pillow. “I think you forget, child,”
what is this
okay since i dont know the definition, im just going to make something up using what i do know
wallow
what a great word
to wallow
it means to act like a little bitch
you little bitch stop wallowing
Jen Danger
“How long are you going to wallow in self-pity like this?” he kicked at your small blanket cocoon. “I don’t even understand why you get so worked up over reality TV.”
“You don’t get it!” you cry, burying your face in your blanket clad knees. “I need to wallow! She was my favorite contestant and she got voted off!”
I hate it when I see people wallowing. I hate self pity and to see someone doing the whole “poor me” makes me want to vomit on my shoes. The only beings in the world that have a right to wallow are pigs. Because that’s what the porcine species does…they wallow in mud. It’s good for their skin, it keeps the bugs off and it makes them happy. Pigs wallow. People shouldn’t.
Leelee
It’s your cowardice that makes you wallow. Tossing and turning, fervently in sorrow. Pride and angst prevent your meek opportunity to repent. Relishing guilt and drowning in folly. Is it truly so hard to release such worthless things? Yellow in the liver, dirty hands and knees. Bowing to your ego, denying sweet release. You have such little time, my friend. How pathetic to spend it refusing to mend.
Yamuna
He wallowed in the feeling of the drug — the long, numbing sensations that let his troubles almost slip away. The pain at his chest disappeared and the grief faded away, and was replaced by the feeling that was brought by the drug. It was secret, something special and only to him, even though he always felt worse when the effects faded. He was left with the cruel reminder that what he was really looking for, and longed for, was already gone.
I hear every day about “he offended me” or “she called me sexist” or “but think about the children.” All I can think about is how much I want to kick their wallowing ass.
It would be easy to stop right now. Just wallow in my grief until it suffocated me, snuffing me out like so many candles. But for some reason I cannot name, I continue forward, running for my life. Maybe if I survive this, I’ll let the grief kill me. But first, I have to survive.
Somtimesn too many people just wallow in their lives. I have an extordinary ability to force people to realize the good in their situation. I aquired this skill many years ago. Is it magic? Or is it just a profound ability to empathize?
Anna Brown
The moment I see this word I think of the phrase “wallowing in self-pity”. I think whilst it’s inevitable we will sometimes feel sorry for ourselves it’s important not to stay there for too long and see a positive in every day and situation, however hard that may feel.
Emwills11
Ha! My sins are too much for you. You should cower and crumble in fear. Fear, I say!
… wait no, what is that you say? Don’t even think that thought. I am above it, and even you, bottom-dweller you may be, are above such things.
You don’t like the condescension? Too bad, so sad. Cry me a river. If you could swim across it, I’d be impressed.
Connor strummed away at his guitar, wallowing in his teen angst. How could Cameron have dumped him like that? Okay, she might have made it clear from the start that she was only dating him to please her dad, but he could’ve sworn there might have been some chemistry between them in the last two weeks.
There was a little kid wallowing from a big hill. He was wallowing in the grass and he liked it. He was laughing and he was having fun in his childhood. When he has come down of the hill he was under the grass and his clothes were looking green.
Levi Strijker
The boy looked at me, his eyes looking like he was in more misery then I could ever feel. But I turned, leaving the wallowing boy behind. I didn’t like this in future times, oh of course not. It felt like, I would never see him again. And I didn’t, until a while back. He was sitting on the wall of our school, looking like a complete loner.
Nigtingale
The boy looked at me, his eyes looking like he was in more misery then I could ever feel. But I turned, leaving the wallowing boy behind. I didn’t like this in future times, oh of course not. It felt like, I would never see him again. And I didn’t, until
Nigtingale
I watched him at the stove burn a finger, it seemed like such a careless brush with open fire. All searing throbs and overly sensitized tenderness. Still all answers look like non answers from where I stand. It doesn’t make sense, must this self pity become pain manifested. Would the metaphor serve the time it takes to heal a second degree burn? I doubt it. He runs the injury under cold water. It is a step in the right direction, let’s only let the tea wallow. Steep the bags, sweeten, swallow.
Thinking, such a simple thing. We all do it. But this is wallowing. Thinking about grief, twenty four seven. Such a bad thing, eh?
Lexi
Rather than wallow in my self-imposed misery, I was determined to recoordinate any future plans I had. If I wasn’t going to be accepted into law school, then maybe my passions lay elsewhere. But which direction to take?
I started by looking at jobs in corporate offices. When that didn’t work, I looked at firms as a paralegal. In the end, I realized I had enjoyed the drama of law more than the logistics. If I couldn’t serve as a lawyer, maybe I could write about one.
Belinda Roddie
It was well past midnight and outside the wind howled and the cold tore at the shutters on the old clapboard house she shared with her clinically depressed mother. It was a comfortable feeling that she cherished. She usually wallowed in her mother’s unreality.
I wallowed through mud, through muck, through forest, root, and tree. I wallowed in the journey. I wallowed in the hardship. And I wallowed in my success. Now I simply wallow in the worry I’ll never wallow in anything else.
I could wallow in reality as much as I want, but escapism prevails .
Once upon the time I realized the older I was getting the less time I had left to live. I realized also that I needed to stop doing things that didn’t satisfy me or at least create the feeling of sense. So, I stopped doing chores, like tidying up and spent more time in looking for things lost in my untidy rooms.
That made sense.
i wallow.
it’s what i do everyday.
in self pity.
in rage.
in misery.
in despair.
in humiliation.
in embarrassment.
and in that rare moment of beauty,
and of inexplicable, incredible joy
i wallow.
Inside out indulgence.
She tired not to wallow in her fear. Most of humanity had died in a single instant; it seemed to her stupid to fret about the fact that she’d been lucky enough to be given the chance to die slowly, probably painfully, over the course of a few months.
She wallowed in her misery like it was a fine wine She wallowed in her guilt like lotion. Rubbing it in until it could no longer be seen. but the worry, the guilt, the regret was still there.
She sat there in her own filth, completely unable to move. It wasn’t for a lack of motor function. No, it was because she had no will. No will to live. No will to die. She sat there in her chair, in the dark corner of the room, and stared into the all-consuming darkness.
The pig wallowed in the mud. And I watched it from the side of the fence. What a boring site. What a boring life. I can’t believe I am stuck in this small town. Will I ever get out of here? I look up and see the first star of the evening and make my wish on it: Please give me a way to escape from this town.
I don’t have much faith in that wish as things like that have never worked out for me before. My dreams get crushed faster than these pigs finish their food. I’ve got to do something.
wallow in the world , wallow in whats around you . Everything seems okay until its not . Everything seems beautiful until jealousy makes things ugly . Wallow in the world , wallow in whats around you . It won’t be there for long.
It’s always so tempting to wallow in negative thoughts. Need more positivity.
i wallow in my pain…. because you created the pain and i’m not ready to let you go
Self pity is something we all feel at some point in our lives. Should we be allowed to wallow in it, though? Is it healthy to do so?
i sit and wallow in the now and wonder who it is i am. am i a writer am i a poet will my writing ever mean anything to anybody. these are the things i wallow in: uncertainty and fear but i don’t want to wallow, I want to wade. wade out and face it all and tell the world hello.
The tears did not fall. The sobbing did not come. The cold, dead look in her eyes showed me enough about how she was wallowing in the tragedy of surviving the exam.
I wallow by the pond in the woods. I love the squishy feeling of mud squeezing through my toes. Giggling and squealing my cheeks are dirty like a little pig. Mud is my favorite. When my mother finds out how I ruined my pretty pink smock, I’m sure she’ll be furious.
Try not to wallow, she said as I stared vacantly into my half eaten bowl of fruit loops. How can I not wallow?, I thought to myself. Isn’t wallowing part of healing? It is quite tiring though. She’s probably right. Enough of this wallowing nonsense, time to man up
wallow and swallow. I think of Gilmore Girls- when Rory broke up with Dean and Lorelai told her to wallow- She refused because she didn’t want to be “that girl” Wallow means to feel low and shallow and to sink into a pit- maybe like self pity? I know the feeling of wallow- I wish I didn’t. Shallow… oh I already said that. Uh
It’s like a sickness engulfing him, a black, sticky mess of hatred that he sinks down into and becomes part of. And some day, there will be nothing of him left–just the spiraling depression going ever downward.
The man wallowed in the conner of the bar. If one more person came to offer him a drink, he might just go and die. Three had asked him already, but he didn’t drink. It never seemed to sit well with him. He never liked the idea of not being at full capacity. But then again he never liked the idea of feeling something when he didn’t have to.
He wallowed in the corner ready for the punishment. He had finally done it he had rebelled in the most devious way possible. There was no mercy for this just death. That’s what awaited him Death
“It does one no good to wallow, dear,” the elder woman said, resting her hand in the center of her back, “The past is in the past and cannot be undone,”
“Do you think I don’t know that?” she snarled, or tried too. It was hard to summon the anger, now. Honestly, right now it was hard to feel anything but pain.
She tutted in a matter so condescending that Ilena couldn’t help but smile into the pillow. “I think you forget, child,”
what is this
okay since i dont know the definition, im just going to make something up using what i do know
wallow
what a great word
to wallow
it means to act like a little bitch
you little bitch stop wallowing
“How long are you going to wallow in self-pity like this?” he kicked at your small blanket cocoon. “I don’t even understand why you get so worked up over reality TV.”
“You don’t get it!” you cry, burying your face in your blanket clad knees. “I need to wallow! She was my favorite contestant and she got voted off!”
I hate it when I see people wallowing. I hate self pity and to see someone doing the whole “poor me” makes me want to vomit on my shoes. The only beings in the world that have a right to wallow are pigs. Because that’s what the porcine species does…they wallow in mud. It’s good for their skin, it keeps the bugs off and it makes them happy. Pigs wallow. People shouldn’t.
It’s your cowardice that makes you wallow. Tossing and turning, fervently in sorrow. Pride and angst prevent your meek opportunity to repent. Relishing guilt and drowning in folly. Is it truly so hard to release such worthless things? Yellow in the liver, dirty hands and knees. Bowing to your ego, denying sweet release. You have such little time, my friend. How pathetic to spend it refusing to mend.
He wallowed in the feeling of the drug — the long, numbing sensations that let his troubles almost slip away. The pain at his chest disappeared and the grief faded away, and was replaced by the feeling that was brought by the drug. It was secret, something special and only to him, even though he always felt worse when the effects faded. He was left with the cruel reminder that what he was really looking for, and longed for, was already gone.
I hear every day about “he offended me” or “she called me sexist” or “but think about the children.” All I can think about is how much I want to kick their wallowing ass.
It would be easy to stop right now. Just wallow in my grief until it suffocated me, snuffing me out like so many candles. But for some reason I cannot name, I continue forward, running for my life. Maybe if I survive this, I’ll let the grief kill me. But first, I have to survive.
Somtimesn too many people just wallow in their lives. I have an extordinary ability to force people to realize the good in their situation. I aquired this skill many years ago. Is it magic? Or is it just a profound ability to empathize?
The moment I see this word I think of the phrase “wallowing in self-pity”. I think whilst it’s inevitable we will sometimes feel sorry for ourselves it’s important not to stay there for too long and see a positive in every day and situation, however hard that may feel.
Ha! My sins are too much for you. You should cower and crumble in fear. Fear, I say!
… wait no, what is that you say? Don’t even think that thought. I am above it, and even you, bottom-dweller you may be, are above such things.
You don’t like the condescension? Too bad, so sad. Cry me a river. If you could swim across it, I’d be impressed.
Never mind? Well, that was much too easy.
Connor strummed away at his guitar, wallowing in his teen angst. How could Cameron have dumped him like that? Okay, she might have made it clear from the start that she was only dating him to please her dad, but he could’ve sworn there might have been some chemistry between them in the last two weeks.
There was a little kid wallowing from a big hill. He was wallowing in the grass and he liked it. He was laughing and he was having fun in his childhood. When he has come down of the hill he was under the grass and his clothes were looking green.
The boy looked at me, his eyes looking like he was in more misery then I could ever feel. But I turned, leaving the wallowing boy behind. I didn’t like this in future times, oh of course not. It felt like, I would never see him again. And I didn’t, until a while back. He was sitting on the wall of our school, looking like a complete loner.
The boy looked at me, his eyes looking like he was in more misery then I could ever feel. But I turned, leaving the wallowing boy behind. I didn’t like this in future times, oh of course not. It felt like, I would never see him again. And I didn’t, until
I watched him at the stove burn a finger, it seemed like such a careless brush with open fire. All searing throbs and overly sensitized tenderness. Still all answers look like non answers from where I stand. It doesn’t make sense, must this self pity become pain manifested. Would the metaphor serve the time it takes to heal a second degree burn? I doubt it. He runs the injury under cold water. It is a step in the right direction, let’s only let the tea wallow. Steep the bags, sweeten, swallow.
Thinking, such a simple thing. We all do it. But this is wallowing. Thinking about grief, twenty four seven. Such a bad thing, eh?
Rather than wallow in my self-imposed misery, I was determined to recoordinate any future plans I had. If I wasn’t going to be accepted into law school, then maybe my passions lay elsewhere. But which direction to take?
I started by looking at jobs in corporate offices. When that didn’t work, I looked at firms as a paralegal. In the end, I realized I had enjoyed the drama of law more than the logistics. If I couldn’t serve as a lawyer, maybe I could write about one.
It was well past midnight and outside the wind howled and the cold tore at the shutters on the old clapboard house she shared with her clinically depressed mother. It was a comfortable feeling that she cherished. She usually wallowed in her mother’s unreality.
Wallowing would have been funny. Life is playing out like one of those 50’s pharmacy songs he grew up with; too bubblegum to really be sad.
I wallowed through mud, through muck, through forest, root, and tree. I wallowed in the journey. I wallowed in the hardship. And I wallowed in my success. Now I simply wallow in the worry I’ll never wallow in anything else.