half of my life i’m spent worrying about what people thing. half of my life i’m spent sitting learning something in class. half of my life i’m wasting away by getting drunk with friends and barely remembering the night. half of my life
There is no way that a half of anything is ever worth it. You need to go big or go home. I mean, half is not nearly enough, except when its half more than you ever expected. It kind of relates back to the whole, half empty half full concept. If half really worth it? Is anything really worth it? What is worth? The only way to measure, is half.
half is a fraction and is lame and I hate math. My ex is also half the man he was before we started dating. Half of my friends are awesome. I have no better half. I WANT APPLES! Half of a man’s penis is chopped off when he breaks up with the chick via FACEBOOK for cheating on her with some prostitute he met in NYC. Half of 7 is 3.5. Half of this shit ain’t true. Half of half is one qtr.
My heart beats so hard, it feels as though it will hiccup through my chest. My lungs burn as though I am breathing burning fog. The air hangs so close next to my body that I find relief in the pain of my salted sweat running into my eyes. Every muscle tortured, every sinnew stretched like cat gut. But, I am still only half way there.
Half is not a whole. It cannot equal what is twice of it. Instead, it exists as the medium between full and empty, pessimism and optimism, achieved and broken.
the cup is always half full or half empty idk this is gay what the hell am i even writing i ate half an apple today half of on orange i am eating an orange starburst what oh dear lord crap i have no time left this sucked well im sorry ye okay bye wow im not creative at all ye okokokokok omgomgogm i suck at this SAHSHHDSH.
I spent half the day trying to figure out how to approach the other half. I sat there with half a cup of coffee flavored with half-and-half and a half a teaspoon of sugar, half-way excited and half-way worried about the afternoon. the afternoon that was going to change everything. the afternoon I was going to meet my half-sister.
The goblins stared blankly at the broken artifact.
The massive sword had been cut clean in two by the horrid ghostly beast that stood before them.
“All that work…” one murmured.
The beast cackled. “You’ve been searching a while. Well, your search is over. You failed.”
“We found it,” the lead goblin countered.
“And lost it. You failed. And now I get to eat.”
Half of the goblin lay on the road.
The other half in the ditch.
The other eight goblins sighed.
“One of them dwarf machines, I’d guess. The saw things.”
“Aye,” said another. “We’ve got to get moving. Y’know how quick they move, I expect they’ll be back once their patrols are done.”
None of the goblins were uninjured. The raid had failed.
I know how to cut things. But not how to cut things into halves. Only into uneven parts.
May fair share. That is all I ask my fair share. After all I did most of the work. Half the money is mine.
half of my life i’m spent worrying about what people thing. half of my life i’m spent sitting learning something in class. half of my life i’m wasting away by getting drunk with friends and barely remembering the night. half of my life
half of my
Half of my life has sucked. Mostly because I have half a heart. My love is whole for her but she has half a mind.
There is no way that a half of anything is ever worth it. You need to go big or go home. I mean, half is not nearly enough, except when its half more than you ever expected. It kind of relates back to the whole, half empty half full concept. If half really worth it? Is anything really worth it? What is worth? The only way to measure, is half.
half is a fraction and is lame and I hate math. My ex is also half the man he was before we started dating. Half of my friends are awesome. I have no better half. I WANT APPLES! Half of a man’s penis is chopped off when he breaks up with the chick via FACEBOOK for cheating on her with some prostitute he met in NYC. Half of 7 is 3.5. Half of this shit ain’t true. Half of half is one qtr.
“What happened to us?”
“What do you mean?”
“Half the time, you can’t even look at me anymore.”
“….”
“What is it? Do you think I’m fat? Is it because I bought that purse without telling you? Is that it?”
“No.”
“Then what?”
“….”
“Tell me.”
“Half the time, I realize how ugly you are on the inside.”
My heart beats so hard, it feels as though it will hiccup through my chest. My lungs burn as though I am breathing burning fog. The air hangs so close next to my body that I find relief in the pain of my salted sweat running into my eyes. Every muscle tortured, every sinnew stretched like cat gut. But, I am still only half way there.
Half is not a whole. It cannot equal what is twice of it. Instead, it exists as the medium between full and empty, pessimism and optimism, achieved and broken.
the cup is always half full or half empty idk this is gay what the hell am i even writing i ate half an apple today half of on orange i am eating an orange starburst what oh dear lord crap i have no time left this sucked well im sorry ye okay bye wow im not creative at all ye okokokokok omgomgogm i suck at this SAHSHHDSH.
Half and half is good in your coffee but bad in those thighs!
I spent half the day trying to figure out how to approach the other half. I sat there with half a cup of coffee flavored with half-and-half and a half a teaspoon of sugar, half-way excited and half-way worried about the afternoon. the afternoon that was going to change everything. the afternoon I was going to meet my half-sister.
The goblins stared blankly at the broken artifact.
The massive sword had been cut clean in two by the horrid ghostly beast that stood before them.
“All that work…” one murmured.
The beast cackled. “You’ve been searching a while. Well, your search is over. You failed.”
“We found it,” the lead goblin countered.
“And lost it. You failed. And now I get to eat.”
half of my life is spent on to realize who am I and still i am nowhere near the truth but i will always try because i believe my existence matters.
Half of the goblin lay on the road.
The other half in the ditch.
The other eight goblins sighed.
“One of them dwarf machines, I’d guess. The saw things.”
“Aye,” said another. “We’ve got to get moving. Y’know how quick they move, I expect they’ll be back once their patrols are done.”
None of the goblins were uninjured. The raid had failed.