To linger is to hang onto the gossamer threads left behind after the passing of an ecstatic experience; to wallow in the sensation of pure delight.
Sadly, it is too often we loiter among the rampant miserable thoughts of despair and worry. To sometimes languish in the desolation over the loss of something or someone mentioned above. To turn over and over again the now painful memories of once sublime moments, tearing yourself apart that they are gone for good, but unwilling to let them go.
To languish is sometimes to become so vexed with anxiety over the guilt and shame of a grievous mistake, you cannot seem to accomplish anything but to agonize over how to make things right again, compounded by worry that you’ll even get the chance.
The times I linger or languish are those in which I embrace either the fantastic or the horrible; the gracious or the cruel, until I cannot bear it any longer. It is then that I finally pull myself away in order to move forward and discover what is next. Or, I simply just give the-hell up, and forget about wasting any more time.