Something was wrong.
Those three words, unsettling as they were, could never describe the way his very presence sent spasms of dread through my veins. And yet there he was, sitting across the room from me even now, sepulchral eyes staring into an inner world no one else could perceive. I wondered if he even knew I was there.
He was indisputably, irreparably divided, that was evident. Not conflicted, disorganized, or alienated, although those were indeed true as well: no, he was split in half to a depth I could not fathom. His heart had been dimidiated, and he had been left with nothing but sinister scars, memories of wounds suffered for the sake of a love not forgotten, but denied in agony.
The algorithms of his existence were all wrong, I decided. No matter how many times his shattered mind was plugged into the system, an answer could not be found. There were no solutions to his madness, only a sole hope of restoration, the impossible dream of a long-dead counterpart and the ashes of tortured faith.
He stared on, seeing nothing. It was all he had left.
I want the the entire cash value back!! NOT HALF!! i didn’t pay for 1/2 of it!!! I payed for the whole thing!! I shouldn’t be penalized for the mistakes of your cell phone company!! Give me the entire amount back, not just HALF!
half of an orange is part of an entire orange. if you’re only halfway hungry, have half an orange. yum. this story sucks. not just half suck, whole sucks.
Half. 50% of something.
Like when your foot falls asleep. You can sort of feel it, but not really.
Like when your heart aches to go somewhere, but the other half of you (your brain) says no. When your voice wants to say something, but your mind says, NO.
When you want to live, but the other half of you wants to die.
I always got Half share whatever my dad Brought at home. Half life is spent in doing CA. Always Got Half Marks of My Sister’s marks. Half the glass is finish & Half is empty, this is the Perception of the People.
Half pink, half blue. The sky seemed split as the sun began to set. A line, right through the middle with the sun resting below it. What beauty, what art, that God could make such an marvelous sight every evening.
there are many halves of things. half of different types of food. halves of objects. halves in math. everything has halves. people have split personalities & technically that is a half too, right? the equator separates half of the world. half of the human population is overweight. probably more than half actually. sometimes people accidentally say haves as in “i have” rather than half or halves.
you did this.
you’ve done it now.
I am so angry right now.
I can’t even think straight.
I can’t even see straight.
I don’t want to.
recklessly running around,
like a bull in a china shop,
using only half of my wit,
half of my thoughts.
half of my brain.
half of everything.
but all of my strength.
there is nothing more-
that I want right now-
but to use every fiber of my being,
to smash this object ;
into hundreds of thousands,
of tiny little fucking pieces-
over your head.
you piece of shit.
watch the earth quake,
just watch me,
watch me make the ground;
beneath your feet,
quake.
you waste of flesh and blood.
you are just like every other human man
on this shit place we call earth.
you couldn’t even fathom,
what i’d be able to do
if I shared more than half of my thoughts and feelings.
let alone if I used more than half
of my brain.
you have no idea.
half of one is half of to halves its a confusing process sometime but sometimes it isnt. You can use halfing In many different ways like halfing the ingredients on a recipie to make it a smaller batch.
half the time. half the money. half the urge to call you honey. i don’t know how it began, but I do know that half is not nearly so good as full. Full is real. Full is so. Full is two halves made whole.
if only i could get rid of half my problems. half my weight? half my awkwardness? or gain half of what other people half. half of the green grass on the other side. halfity half. alice in wonderland got cut in half. she shrank, that is. i love that book. lewis carrol is hilarious, even tho he uses a lot of parentheticals. but i use a lot of parentheticals in my essays too. so i guess i’m just a modern-day lewis carrol :) haha no just kidding. never. ever. sigh.
I didn’t have much sugar left, so I didn’t bother putting any in. Half the time he didn’t notice anyway. The other half he’d forget I’d even bought him a cup of tea. He’d be in that shed for 48 hour stints if I’d let him. I had no idea what the latest ‘project’ was but going by the debris lying around the lawn and what I’d seen him drag in this morning before he slammed the wonky shed door shut, apparently it had something to do with welding a step ladder to a buckled bicycle wheel. I’m sure it was dreadfully important, maybe even on an international scale because I couldn’t find any other reason as to why he’d be so dedicated to it in lieu of being a father to his children and a husband to his wife, me.
I have a sister. I know too much about her. Many people think we’re just super cool partners in crime. But we’re more than that. She’s my other half. Not like a boyfriend other half. But a family other half.
Half means not being whole. There is a sadness about being half. Some people see glasses half empty, others half full. Being half means not being defined in any way. To be whole is to be inhuman.
I think that there are many things in this world that must be changed, the problem is that we want it but we don’t do anything for it, we just want, but we must understand that things can’t change in that way and we must do an impossible things for reaching impossible aims !!
there was half an hour until ten, until the hour before noon. And I hadn’t digested the sandwich that would either serve as friend or foe today. Energy or discomfort, Fuel or freight. The day promised a pregnant day, but I was convinced it was simply bloated.
We lost the captain in those early months
But we were steel armed
smashing shoulders to the wheel
Propelled like chart makers
With singularity of purpose
So I assumed the helm
overhead angels
Sung across calm waters
We anchored in deep harbours
And for a time forgot the ghost
That slept in our ballast
But a tempest rose, as they must
I whistled on the foredeck
To mother Carey’s chickens
all hands feared the curse
with none spared
To appease his fitful soul
Thus their inward chant of death
Filled our sails
As they sought the Omen
I stood at the wheel
Cursing each wretched man
For extinguishing his own fire
The tempest raged
My battered tricorn tipping rain over my shoulders
Locked strongbox of pistols at my feet
Not one soul lost in the blackness
But you can no more defy ships law
Than lasso the wind
So they put me over the side
In a long boat with a cask of water
Some ships biscuits tossed in a sack
a bible
And my sextant
The boy ate half a pie and got sick to his stomach. So a doctor came and made him better. Then the boy said, “I will never again eat half a pie.” And he never did.
half of my life is there just for you, as you are there all alone into the deeps of the frame in the art galley , only me can remember you, as you become the forgotten portrait
Half. A half of a whole. A whole half, a half-glance. Half a cigarette, half a piece of cake. Half a song, half a tune heard from a whistling passerby. Half-hearted smiles, half of my heart. Half of the glow of the moon in the night sky. Half of my days, half wasted away.
I fear I may never find mine. I fear it has dwindled away down the wrong century. I fear I had sprouted at the wrong time. I fear I missed that corner. I fear it didn’t miss me at all.
a human’s other half
to bend a broken heart
half a cup, or half a life
when you share with someone what you have in full
you get something you want in between, not all the way
this isn’t making any sense actually
Kevin says I’ll take half a slice of bread. And I say do you mean half of a half or just half of a whole. He says half of that and points to half of a slice. I’m not sure he’ll eat even that even thought it’s not much. His appetite isn’t good lately.
What is a half? It can be viewed through a lot of different eyes. A mathematician may view it as a fraction or a percentage, an artist may see it as a shape and someone who is hungry like me may see it as half a cake.
One and a half hours. Could be a while, or could be a moment. Depends on what you want to do, I suppose. Is it something you like? It’ll fly by in an instant. Something you hate? It’ll drag on for months. I promise. That’s how it always works.
it started like this.
i wrote you letters every sunday until i
began to forget how to talk to you.
i didn’t read them over.
i burned them in the palms of my hands,
ashes blackening.
no, that’s not right;
it started like this.
you were green, a flower from the inner city.
we ran through forest as your lungs learned
how to breathe.
tightly, you held my hand.
it plateaued.
i thought i could learn everything about you.
i was right.
how it ended.
we met on a stifling summer afternoon.
i pretended not to be lonely.
tightly, i held onto your hand.
He was my other half. We had saved each other’s lives. We were friends, we were in love. But now all of that’s gone. So why am I still split in half, when he’s smiling?
Half of this, half of that… I never really measure things when I cook. Sometimes I double, sometimes I quarter. My favourite though is to half. For some reason, half an onion looks like a great thing, so I roll with it. Not the same though when you try adding half a garlic.
Half a cup of coffee made my morning a whole lot brighter. The kid’s next door’s scream were a little quieter, the neighbour’s dog barked a little softer and maybe today won’t be such a bad day.
They were long-fingered and pale, riddled with marks of red ink.
Sighing, he looked back at the half-blank paper before him.
The word written over and over and over was for only him to know.
As haphazardly as the words trailed on in spirals and shelves and columns,
they all stopped where the paper was folded in half.
And, like abandoning a half-completed thought, all he could do was wonder why
he could never bring himself to finish what he had started.
Something was wrong.
Those three words, unsettling as they were, could never describe the way his very presence sent spasms of dread through my veins. And yet there he was, sitting across the room from me even now, sepulchral eyes staring into an inner world no one else could perceive. I wondered if he even knew I was there.
He was indisputably, irreparably divided, that was evident. Not conflicted, disorganized, or alienated, although those were indeed true as well: no, he was split in half to a depth I could not fathom. His heart had been dimidiated, and he had been left with nothing but sinister scars, memories of wounds suffered for the sake of a love not forgotten, but denied in agony.
The algorithms of his existence were all wrong, I decided. No matter how many times his shattered mind was plugged into the system, an answer could not be found. There were no solutions to his madness, only a sole hope of restoration, the impossible dream of a long-dead counterpart and the ashes of tortured faith.
He stared on, seeing nothing. It was all he had left.
I want the the entire cash value back!! NOT HALF!! i didn’t pay for 1/2 of it!!! I payed for the whole thing!! I shouldn’t be penalized for the mistakes of your cell phone company!! Give me the entire amount back, not just HALF!
half of an orange is part of an entire orange. if you’re only halfway hungry, have half an orange. yum. this story sucks. not just half suck, whole sucks.
Half. 50% of something.
Like when your foot falls asleep. You can sort of feel it, but not really.
Like when your heart aches to go somewhere, but the other half of you (your brain) says no. When your voice wants to say something, but your mind says, NO.
When you want to live, but the other half of you wants to die.
I always got Half share whatever my dad Brought at home. Half life is spent in doing CA. Always Got Half Marks of My Sister’s marks. Half the glass is finish & Half is empty, this is the Perception of the People.
Half pink, half blue. The sky seemed split as the sun began to set. A line, right through the middle with the sun resting below it. What beauty, what art, that God could make such an marvelous sight every evening.
there are many halves of things. half of different types of food. halves of objects. halves in math. everything has halves. people have split personalities & technically that is a half too, right? the equator separates half of the world. half of the human population is overweight. probably more than half actually. sometimes people accidentally say haves as in “i have” rather than half or halves.
you did this.
you’ve done it now.
I am so angry right now.
I can’t even think straight.
I can’t even see straight.
I don’t want to.
recklessly running around,
like a bull in a china shop,
using only half of my wit,
half of my thoughts.
half of my brain.
half of everything.
but all of my strength.
there is nothing more-
that I want right now-
but to use every fiber of my being,
to smash this object ;
into hundreds of thousands,
of tiny little fucking pieces-
over your head.
you piece of shit.
watch the earth quake,
just watch me,
watch me make the ground;
beneath your feet,
quake.
you waste of flesh and blood.
you are just like every other human man
on this shit place we call earth.
you couldn’t even fathom,
what i’d be able to do
if I shared more than half of my thoughts and feelings.
let alone if I used more than half
of my brain.
you have no idea.
Half of everything is something.
Something is better than nothing.
half of one is half of to halves its a confusing process sometime but sometimes it isnt. You can use halfing In many different ways like halfing the ingredients on a recipie to make it a smaller batch.
half the time. half the money. half the urge to call you honey. i don’t know how it began, but I do know that half is not nearly so good as full. Full is real. Full is so. Full is two halves made whole.
half is a part of somthing that has thee exact amount
if only i could get rid of half my problems. half my weight? half my awkwardness? or gain half of what other people half. half of the green grass on the other side. halfity half. alice in wonderland got cut in half. she shrank, that is. i love that book. lewis carrol is hilarious, even tho he uses a lot of parentheticals. but i use a lot of parentheticals in my essays too. so i guess i’m just a modern-day lewis carrol :) haha no just kidding. never. ever. sigh.
I didn’t have much sugar left, so I didn’t bother putting any in. Half the time he didn’t notice anyway. The other half he’d forget I’d even bought him a cup of tea. He’d be in that shed for 48 hour stints if I’d let him. I had no idea what the latest ‘project’ was but going by the debris lying around the lawn and what I’d seen him drag in this morning before he slammed the wonky shed door shut, apparently it had something to do with welding a step ladder to a buckled bicycle wheel. I’m sure it was dreadfully important, maybe even on an international scale because I couldn’t find any other reason as to why he’d be so dedicated to it in lieu of being a father to his children and a husband to his wife, me.
I have a sister. I know too much about her. Many people think we’re just super cool partners in crime. But we’re more than that. She’s my other half. Not like a boyfriend other half. But a family other half.
Half means not being whole. There is a sadness about being half. Some people see glasses half empty, others half full. Being half means not being defined in any way. To be whole is to be inhuman.
I think that there are many things in this world that must be changed, the problem is that we want it but we don’t do anything for it, we just want, but we must understand that things can’t change in that way and we must do an impossible things for reaching impossible aims !!
HALF IS HALF.. hehehits not complete and ur better half compltes your half.. so basically half and half is complete.. :P omg i completet it b4 tym :)
there was half an hour until ten, until the hour before noon. And I hadn’t digested the sandwich that would either serve as friend or foe today. Energy or discomfort, Fuel or freight. The day promised a pregnant day, but I was convinced it was simply bloated.
We lost the captain in those early months
But we were steel armed
smashing shoulders to the wheel
Propelled like chart makers
With singularity of purpose
So I assumed the helm
overhead angels
Sung across calm waters
We anchored in deep harbours
And for a time forgot the ghost
That slept in our ballast
But a tempest rose, as they must
I whistled on the foredeck
To mother Carey’s chickens
all hands feared the curse
with none spared
To appease his fitful soul
Thus their inward chant of death
Filled our sails
As they sought the Omen
I stood at the wheel
Cursing each wretched man
For extinguishing his own fire
The tempest raged
My battered tricorn tipping rain over my shoulders
Locked strongbox of pistols at my feet
Not one soul lost in the blackness
But you can no more defy ships law
Than lasso the wind
So they put me over the side
In a long boat with a cask of water
Some ships biscuits tossed in a sack
a bible
And my sextant
I was a half
You were a half
We seemed like a perfect whole
But I guess you’re not my half
And I belong to someone else’s half
The boy ate half a pie and got sick to his stomach. So a doctor came and made him better. Then the boy said, “I will never again eat half a pie.” And he never did.
half of my heart was yours
half of it you took and ran away with it
half of my heart was yours
half of it will never be mine again
the first half of my life i’ve been thinking about leaving. now it’s time to come back and to enjoy the second half of my heart
half of my life is there just for you, as you are there all alone into the deeps of the frame in the art galley , only me can remember you, as you become the forgotten portrait
“You know, you’re just a half-breed,” the human said.
The centaur felt insulted and his nostrils flared. His head was full of images of stomping that puny human.
“But you are a good half-breed and I don’t think that you show it too even if you look like one. You so cute,” the human patted him.
Half. A half of a whole. A whole half, a half-glance. Half a cigarette, half a piece of cake. Half a song, half a tune heard from a whistling passerby. Half-hearted smiles, half of my heart. Half of the glow of the moon in the night sky. Half of my days, half wasted away.
My brother got out of jail in half the time he would have, but he escaped. Now he is
Once again, free to cause trouble.
I fear I may never find mine. I fear it has dwindled away down the wrong century. I fear I had sprouted at the wrong time. I fear I missed that corner. I fear it didn’t miss me at all.
a human’s other half
to bend a broken heart
half a cup, or half a life
when you share with someone what you have in full
you get something you want in between, not all the way
this isn’t making any sense actually
“You’ve half a mind!”
“Half a leg!”
“Half an arm!”
“Half a face!”
“How disgusting.”
But you still mean the whole world to me.
Thank you.
Kevin says I’ll take half a slice of bread. And I say do you mean half of a half or just half of a whole. He says half of that and points to half of a slice. I’m not sure he’ll eat even that even thought it’s not much. His appetite isn’t good lately.
What is a half? It can be viewed through a lot of different eyes. A mathematician may view it as a fraction or a percentage, an artist may see it as a shape and someone who is hungry like me may see it as half a cake.
Half of whatever I think is contradictory. its because i always think of two sides and try to look at both perspectives.
One and a half hours. Could be a while, or could be a moment. Depends on what you want to do, I suppose. Is it something you like? It’ll fly by in an instant. Something you hate? It’ll drag on for months. I promise. That’s how it always works.
it started like this.
i wrote you letters every sunday until i
began to forget how to talk to you.
i didn’t read them over.
i burned them in the palms of my hands,
ashes blackening.
no, that’s not right;
it started like this.
you were green, a flower from the inner city.
we ran through forest as your lungs learned
how to breathe.
tightly, you held my hand.
it plateaued.
i thought i could learn everything about you.
i was right.
how it ended.
we met on a stifling summer afternoon.
i pretended not to be lonely.
tightly, i held onto your hand.
He was my other half. We had saved each other’s lives. We were friends, we were in love. But now all of that’s gone. So why am I still split in half, when he’s smiling?
Half of this, half of that… I never really measure things when I cook. Sometimes I double, sometimes I quarter. My favourite though is to half. For some reason, half an onion looks like a great thing, so I roll with it. Not the same though when you try adding half a garlic.
Half a cup of coffee made my morning a whole lot brighter. The kid’s next door’s scream were a little quieter, the neighbour’s dog barked a little softer and maybe today won’t be such a bad day.
He looked down at his ink-stained hands.
They were long-fingered and pale, riddled with marks of red ink.
Sighing, he looked back at the half-blank paper before him.
The word written over and over and over was for only him to know.
As haphazardly as the words trailed on in spirals and shelves and columns,
they all stopped where the paper was folded in half.
And, like abandoning a half-completed thought, all he could do was wonder why
he could never bring himself to finish what he had started.