half of me was a piece of shriveled meat. not useless, but a reminder. it doesnt move.
rosemary
half and half creamer. half black and white, just like me. only halfway sure of myself. halfway wanting him, but halfway knowing that it will never. How he smeels like soap. how he never talks to me. how i literally just ate everything in my kitchen because im such a fatass. how im jusst nit sure about anything. ho i halfway just want my parents to get a divorce and be done with it, and then the selfish part of it that wants to just stay here in this limbo where everyone hates eachother buut we somehow manage tp dwell in this same hell house. but ill stay here for three more years if i can, i dont want to move, illl take misery at home for hapiness everywhere else. or almost happiness, theres always the stuff at the back of my mind.
drew
Half of the time, I’m utterly void of any feeling towards myself. I ignore the consciousness I’m using, focusing instead on the environment and few inhabitants that seem worthy of observation. Then, suddenly, all i see is my own lack of appeal. I am too contained in what I lack to want to move at all. These halves diverge into a scattered mess of matter that has grayed due to exposure to relentless uncertainty, and somehow it tells me to drift on, ignoring the helpless whole all at once.
i think of a sandwich and sharing it, cut down diagonally from one corner to the other. I also think of someone being your “other” half and making you feel like you are one sould in two bodies. theres not a feeling much more intimate than that.
Jenna
I wish I was half as motivated as I think I am half of the time! Think of all of the great things I could accomplish! That dirty kitchen sink would be clean. all of those dirty clothes would be laundered, and the world would be a much better place. Ahhh….the humanity.
Half a glass is better than no glass at all, unless the glass contains medicine…..medicine totally sucks ass. I mean who comes up with the flavouring for those things and who could possibly believe that orange flavour could possibly cover the disgusting taste of fish oil?
Kate
half full half empty. a heart when you’re left behind.
half a soul. half the feelings you could feel before.
half your innocence left.
half your childhood forgotten.
k
Half of my heart is shattered. I don’t get why but it is. Half of me is gone. Half my joy, love, patience, and the life that I have. Just half of me is gone. Someone, please help me find my other half? or was I even whole to begin with? Half. Half. Half.
Emily
I don’t know how to describe it, but sometimes I get this weird feeling that I’m not full. That I’m only a part of myself and you’re the other part and I feel empty and disjointed because I can’t be with you all the time. You’re not even understanding. It’s not one of those telepathic things where you understand me when no one else does. I just wish I could be with you forever.
half a mile separates our houses. half a foot separates our desks. half our life I’ve loved you. half our life you haven’t known I exist.
taylor
of a whole is not a lot. i’d rather have a whole instead of a half. half of four is two. half of a horse means that the horse would not be alive. it’s a weird word if you say it a lot of times. i wonder what it sounds like in Japanese. It spells “flah” backwards. halvsies?
kitty
half and half and half. half of what? not important i suppose. my better half, my lesser half, everyone knows which is true.
When I think of the word half I think of milk. Like half a pint of milk. And algebra. Algebra is full of too many fractions. Half. Rhymes with calf. I’m the kind of person who sees the glass half full, instead of half empty.
Savanna
half
i used to think that
half my soul
half my “reason i get up each day”
half my “smiling for no reasons”
half my “secret silent wishings”
would always be because of you but
things are different and
i am now whole
no more
50% for
you my love
adieu
Em
there is a lot that can be said about the word half. it is a point at which there is no return, because to go on is just as hard. it is a point at which one can tell if they think the journey is half over, or half started, if that even makes any sense. maybe half sense, a half-baked idea perhaps.
J. Allain
There is half and orange and half an apple. But you can’t put them together, that is just nonsense. Though, if you think about it… They’re both lonely.and loneliness is bad, even worst than stupidity, so whatever, let’s just put those two together.
Ale
they say that god originally made people with four legs and four arms and two heads. but we were too powerful, so he split us in half, forcing us to search for the other part of us. our soul mate. that’s you and me.
he cut her in half
her face was emotionless.
it was strange
her eyes then opened really huge
and realized her legs were gone
everything below her hips were gone
the magician wasn’t paid well
half a minute was what it took for that disastrous event to happen in my life.
ramita
One day there was half a sandwhich on the counter and bennett ate it. It made me very sad because it was my sandwich. I wish he could have just asked because I would have given him one half of my half and we could have each had one fourth!
Julia
It was simple. So simple that I’d been cursing myself all the way back to Missouri. He was my other, the other part of my heart and when I left him standing at the airport, I left a piece of me behind. My fingers ached for touch him and my eyes longed to see him.
T-Bone
Half of me is more than I can deal with at a time. Half of you is more than I really want to see. Takes two whole people for a relationship. I’m not a relationship person.
Kelsey
half is so sad it is depressed because it is not whole. I feel my personality is split in half most days and mostly i see the glass as half empty half a cup of water could satiate a starving family’s thirst half a cup of food could do the same.
half of the things that go around in my class is full of shit! half of everybody in the world is lifeless , when it comes to facing failure.but you always know that the glass is half full
megha
If you cut something in half, you have two halves. If you cut those halves in half, you have four quarters. Rinse and repeat ad infinitum. Fractions are horrible to work with, they just go on and on and on… Who says there are two halves to a person? What if you are looking for your other seven eighths?
I will always remember you as my better half. When we were together, you were always the funnier one. The smarter one, the kinder one, the better looking one. You were more than just my better half. You were my everything. And without you, I’m not a half, but rather, I am nothing.
Feels good to be a half of a whole to be a part of something bigger but I’m having trouble finding what fits where is my half I wonder no where to be found at the moment my question isdo we ever find that other half and if we do howdo we know?
Lauren
Half of a whole. You are half of a whole. You know why? Because I’m your other half. I am made for you, and you for me. We are interwoven, ever changing, always together. A yin and yang. The ring on my finger proves this. The vow on your lips proves this. We are proven; two halves a whole. You are my other half, my better half. I hope you say the same thing about me.
Lindsey
He was her better half. He loved her, and brought out all of the lovely things in her she couldn’t always bring out herself.
She was his better half. She loved him, and brought out all of the lovely things he couldn’t always bring our in himself.
Together, they were whole.
Kaylyn
half of myself falls
the other half just stands watching
the glass is half empty. I’m a pessimist so half is always less than the desired amount instead of more. my parents are no longer a whole, but a half. that’s less than the desired amount. my life is now in half, who do I go between? which half do I choose? Will my family ever be a whole again? I don’t know
Katie
She saw the glass and swallowed. Half full. She reached over slowly, took it into her hands, and bit her lip. She saw the images in her head; him raising the tip of the glass against his lips; the stained, glistening aftermaths of his morning coffee.
fireheads
Fifty percent of the whole. What would be the .500 mark. Cut in two. Equal parts. That’s all. I don’t need the full minute.
Half full, half empty. You give half your love, half the time. Where’s the other half hiding?
Have you destroyed it completely?
Or is it hidden amongst your cells, fighting for a way to be free?
Marlayna
Half.
The obvious
choice would be
to write about love.
The other half, the soul
mate. Or more likely…the one
who halved my heart. But that’s only
half of the truth, isn’t it? How can we depend
on being completed by another… By a boy, perhaps…
if we are not even whole in ourselves? How can you
love him if you don’t love You? You can’t. All these
people. Broken in pieces by some other lonely
soul… But of course he tore you apart; all he
to do was press his fingers against your
already cracked surface for you to
shatter. You people. You lonely,
lonely people. I’m sorry. I’m
sorry you were only told
half of the truth. Do
you know why?
Because I
am you.
Half.
Half. You can see the glass as half empty or half full. Either way, there is still the same amount of whatever substance is in the glass, so why debate? It really is all the same.
Half. nothing to say really. I’ve got half of the time to write this now. Hmm.
Sydney
people talk about the glass is half full or half empty why can’t it just be half? I don’t understand why we have to make everything so complicated. If it could just be half perhaps no one would worry. No one would worry what their outlook in life was and just live how they want instead of by the guidelines society sets.
Anatalia
in the middle of my sentence, i stopped. i couldn’t write anymore. i couldn’t think. i wasn’t complete, i couldn’t go on thinking about how much i would have been better if he accepted me. i’m incomplete. i’m the half full cup of water.
half of me was a piece of shriveled meat. not useless, but a reminder. it doesnt move.
half and half creamer. half black and white, just like me. only halfway sure of myself. halfway wanting him, but halfway knowing that it will never. How he smeels like soap. how he never talks to me. how i literally just ate everything in my kitchen because im such a fatass. how im jusst nit sure about anything. ho i halfway just want my parents to get a divorce and be done with it, and then the selfish part of it that wants to just stay here in this limbo where everyone hates eachother buut we somehow manage tp dwell in this same hell house. but ill stay here for three more years if i can, i dont want to move, illl take misery at home for hapiness everywhere else. or almost happiness, theres always the stuff at the back of my mind.
Half of the time, I’m utterly void of any feeling towards myself. I ignore the consciousness I’m using, focusing instead on the environment and few inhabitants that seem worthy of observation. Then, suddenly, all i see is my own lack of appeal. I am too contained in what I lack to want to move at all. These halves diverge into a scattered mess of matter that has grayed due to exposure to relentless uncertainty, and somehow it tells me to drift on, ignoring the helpless whole all at once.
i think of a sandwich and sharing it, cut down diagonally from one corner to the other. I also think of someone being your “other” half and making you feel like you are one sould in two bodies. theres not a feeling much more intimate than that.
I wish I was half as motivated as I think I am half of the time! Think of all of the great things I could accomplish! That dirty kitchen sink would be clean. all of those dirty clothes would be laundered, and the world would be a much better place. Ahhh….the humanity.
Half a glass is better than no glass at all, unless the glass contains medicine…..medicine totally sucks ass. I mean who comes up with the flavouring for those things and who could possibly believe that orange flavour could possibly cover the disgusting taste of fish oil?
half full half empty. a heart when you’re left behind.
half a soul. half the feelings you could feel before.
half your innocence left.
half your childhood forgotten.
Half of my heart is shattered. I don’t get why but it is. Half of me is gone. Half my joy, love, patience, and the life that I have. Just half of me is gone. Someone, please help me find my other half? or was I even whole to begin with? Half. Half. Half.
I don’t know how to describe it, but sometimes I get this weird feeling that I’m not full. That I’m only a part of myself and you’re the other part and I feel empty and disjointed because I can’t be with you all the time. You’re not even understanding. It’s not one of those telepathic things where you understand me when no one else does. I just wish I could be with you forever.
half a mile separates our houses. half a foot separates our desks. half our life I’ve loved you. half our life you haven’t known I exist.
of a whole is not a lot. i’d rather have a whole instead of a half. half of four is two. half of a horse means that the horse would not be alive. it’s a weird word if you say it a lot of times. i wonder what it sounds like in Japanese. It spells “flah” backwards. halvsies?
half and half and half. half of what? not important i suppose. my better half, my lesser half, everyone knows which is true.
I don’t miss you half as much as you would probably like to think.
When I think of the word half I think of milk. Like half a pint of milk. And algebra. Algebra is full of too many fractions. Half. Rhymes with calf. I’m the kind of person who sees the glass half full, instead of half empty.
half
i used to think that
half my soul
half my “reason i get up each day”
half my “smiling for no reasons”
half my “secret silent wishings”
would always be because of you but
things are different and
i am now whole
no more
50% for
you my love
adieu
there is a lot that can be said about the word half. it is a point at which there is no return, because to go on is just as hard. it is a point at which one can tell if they think the journey is half over, or half started, if that even makes any sense. maybe half sense, a half-baked idea perhaps.
There is half and orange and half an apple. But you can’t put them together, that is just nonsense. Though, if you think about it… They’re both lonely.and loneliness is bad, even worst than stupidity, so whatever, let’s just put those two together.
they say that god originally made people with four legs and four arms and two heads. but we were too powerful, so he split us in half, forcing us to search for the other part of us. our soul mate. that’s you and me.
he cut her in half
her face was emotionless.
it was strange
her eyes then opened really huge
and realized her legs were gone
everything below her hips were gone
the magician wasn’t paid well
half a minute was what it took for that disastrous event to happen in my life.
One day there was half a sandwhich on the counter and bennett ate it. It made me very sad because it was my sandwich. I wish he could have just asked because I would have given him one half of my half and we could have each had one fourth!
It was simple. So simple that I’d been cursing myself all the way back to Missouri. He was my other, the other part of my heart and when I left him standing at the airport, I left a piece of me behind. My fingers ached for touch him and my eyes longed to see him.
Half of me is more than I can deal with at a time. Half of you is more than I really want to see. Takes two whole people for a relationship. I’m not a relationship person.
half is so sad it is depressed because it is not whole. I feel my personality is split in half most days and mostly i see the glass as half empty half a cup of water could satiate a starving family’s thirst half a cup of food could do the same.
half of the things that go around in my class is full of shit! half of everybody in the world is lifeless , when it comes to facing failure.but you always know that the glass is half full
If you cut something in half, you have two halves. If you cut those halves in half, you have four quarters. Rinse and repeat ad infinitum. Fractions are horrible to work with, they just go on and on and on… Who says there are two halves to a person? What if you are looking for your other seven eighths?
I will always remember you as my better half. When we were together, you were always the funnier one. The smarter one, the kinder one, the better looking one. You were more than just my better half. You were my everything. And without you, I’m not a half, but rather, I am nothing.
Feels good to be a half of a whole to be a part of something bigger but I’m having trouble finding what fits where is my half I wonder no where to be found at the moment my question isdo we ever find that other half and if we do howdo we know?
Half of a whole. You are half of a whole. You know why? Because I’m your other half. I am made for you, and you for me. We are interwoven, ever changing, always together. A yin and yang. The ring on my finger proves this. The vow on your lips proves this. We are proven; two halves a whole. You are my other half, my better half. I hope you say the same thing about me.
He was her better half. He loved her, and brought out all of the lovely things in her she couldn’t always bring out herself.
She was his better half. She loved him, and brought out all of the lovely things he couldn’t always bring our in himself.
Together, they were whole.
half of myself falls
the other half just stands watching
the glass is half empty. I’m a pessimist so half is always less than the desired amount instead of more. my parents are no longer a whole, but a half. that’s less than the desired amount. my life is now in half, who do I go between? which half do I choose? Will my family ever be a whole again? I don’t know
She saw the glass and swallowed. Half full. She reached over slowly, took it into her hands, and bit her lip. She saw the images in her head; him raising the tip of the glass against his lips; the stained, glistening aftermaths of his morning coffee.
Fifty percent of the whole. What would be the .500 mark. Cut in two. Equal parts. That’s all. I don’t need the full minute.
Half full, half empty. You give half your love, half the time. Where’s the other half hiding?
Have you destroyed it completely?
Or is it hidden amongst your cells, fighting for a way to be free?
Half.
The obvious
choice would be
to write about love.
The other half, the soul
mate. Or more likely…the one
who halved my heart. But that’s only
half of the truth, isn’t it? How can we depend
on being completed by another… By a boy, perhaps…
if we are not even whole in ourselves? How can you
love him if you don’t love You? You can’t. All these
people. Broken in pieces by some other lonely
soul… But of course he tore you apart; all he
to do was press his fingers against your
already cracked surface for you to
shatter. You people. You lonely,
lonely people. I’m sorry. I’m
sorry you were only told
half of the truth. Do
you know why?
Because I
am you.
Half.
Half. You can see the glass as half empty or half full. Either way, there is still the same amount of whatever substance is in the glass, so why debate? It really is all the same.
Half. nothing to say really. I’ve got half of the time to write this now. Hmm.
people talk about the glass is half full or half empty why can’t it just be half? I don’t understand why we have to make everything so complicated. If it could just be half perhaps no one would worry. No one would worry what their outlook in life was and just live how they want instead of by the guidelines society sets.
in the middle of my sentence, i stopped. i couldn’t write anymore. i couldn’t think. i wasn’t complete, i couldn’t go on thinking about how much i would have been better if he accepted me. i’m incomplete. i’m the half full cup of water.