Half, is what you get when you divide something by two. So what if we’re two? Why do we have to be divided into half? You’re the other half of me, but where are you? Sometime’s half can’t live without the other half. It’s true, for me and you…
half is good because if the half is something you don’t really desire, then you only have to deal with half of it insead of all of it. half is good because if it the half of something is something that you REALLY want then at least you get to share half
Half of the time, I couldnt even think about him. The other half, I could. On one half, he was a lying, cheating, bastard that I couldnt stand. On the other half, he was sweet and he bought me food. Choices.
Half. Half is a part of a whole. I drank half a couple of milk this morning with my cream and coffee. It is not quite half way through the year yet but in January it will be half way through the year. Half is a part of a pizza. I can eat half of a pizza.
Which half is the question? The bottom half or the top half? Why are we using the word half since all we want is everything whole while we buy our stuff in half, maybe a nice question for school?
Halfs are not great. Not great at all. What’s good if it’s a half and not a whole? Half only give you half benifits, whole, give you whole benifits. Therefore, half is not benificial at all.
To one finds the other, the magical divide. A split – me. you. Somewhere in between, in the place where neither of us are, is where we find us. Together, in our separateness. Finding unity in the ether. You are the positive that pronounces the negative that makes the whole conduit electric.
Half the time she was sitting beside him, Jeanne felt like her body was on fire. His touch sent shivers down her spine, the simplest of looks sent her into a dizzy fit. Each and every day she had said nothing to him, but now was her chance to shine. She’d worn her favorite outfit, did her hair and makeup, and confidence radiated through her being. She began to walk forward, but then paused. What if someone had already claimed him? What if he wasn’t hers?
Is the glass half full or half empty? Half offers such potential, a glimmer into what’s ahead, a taste of more to come, dip your toe in and move to half way
I’m only left with half my heart.
This is thanks to you,
guess I shouldn’t have given up
too much for me to lose.
I trusted you more than you know
we all make mistakes.
I won’t make that one again,
Can’t afford to break.
Half. That was all. No more no less. Half. Take it or leave it. Seeing as how I had done 90% of the word the arrangement didn’t seem too fair. But like they said, I was not in a position to bargain.
“Half,” I said, defeated.
The other – what – bit – dimension – the whole sixpendce – the id for the ego the matter for the dark – all measure and counter all light and -well, half—light?
All measures have at least two; and just occasionally, there may be three or more. Or so Fred had told me. That was why, looking at the platter before me, there was more than the sense that – as I had uttered to myself on more than one occassion – Fred was full of bull. Except…
Half. Half of everything, half of anything. Half of me. Half of you. But it will never be full. It will never be how I want it. Why do you hate me? I said sorry…What do you want? I’m trying to tell you. But you changed. You changed into a idiot. I just don’t know anymore…..I miss you. I miss how you cared. But when I told you the truth…you walked away. You walked away from me. You walked away from us. A small maybe, turned into this? I need you. Why aren’t you here anymore? We’ve split. Split in half. Halves are never good enough. It never will be. Why aren’t you trying anymore? I need you here. Your never there anymore. I cry for when we can be friends. It’s never like this Once I say Hi, and open up to you, why did you leave? Don’t you know I can’t take it anymore? Don’t you know I miss us? Our friendship? What did I do? I told you the truth. And you hate me. You hate me so much…….I can’t take it. I miss you and our friendship. Why are you so far away? You make it seem as if we’re so close….Yet we’re so far. We’ve drifted. Drifted away, into nothing. Halves. I will try though. I will try the hardest that I can. I want you to see, I miss you. I miss you here. In my mind, your still here. Your not trying. Have we really split? I won’t believe it. I will become better. Because halves never will be.
half an hour left, how much of my home work could I accomplish in that time? Not much is my guess but better try anyway, I want to go to college and that needs work.. I can dream I guess.
Some people see the glass as half empty. Some as half full. I don’t see the glass as even existing. It is what it is, we can’t change shit, so get over it and just be happy that you’re alive and kicking….honestly. A glass?
so, my other half, where are you hiding? In the bus, just two seats in front of me? In the shop, miscounting my change? Are you hiding in the bushes under my window, sneaking glances at my silhouette at night? Are you here right now, throwing cool blue arms around my neck, and whispering into the skin of my shoulder?
Half of me is residing in my hometown, halfway across the world. And here I am, trying to adapt to these new faces and places and street-names. The lingo is strange. My tongue twists in confusion. My other half sleeps peacefully and dances in the streets. At least part of me is at home.
my glass is half full. My life is half way there. I am half way there. We’re all half something. Half is there. Always there. Nothing can stop you from being half something.
Half?i think of accents. like myf friend steph. she has this great new york accent so veryime she says half it doesnt really sound like half but hhaaaaaaeeeffff.
Half empty? or half full? halfway through my life, if I live to be one hundred, I have a choice: will I dwell on the things I did not achieve? Or will I celebrate life half full.
It was a half measure – it always was though, wasn’t it? No warmth, just fear. Caution-filled words released into a pervasive silence. Downcast eyes and hesitant steps. Anything to avoid what was happening. And it wasn’t right – they knew it wasn’t – but they did it anyway because it was simple. It was a sordid sort of safety and it would shield them until the day it failed. But they didn’t have to deal with that now – not now. Someday, perhaps. Some other day to feel the conflict, to confront it, nurture it. Some other day to see the sun or to be buried alive.
Is there only one word provided each day? I could see this as a great exercise for aspiring artists or writers. I want to use this idea for a creative writing class. Each day they have to log on to this site and write for one minute. Great idea.
half of a whole is what you will discover when you cut something by fifty percent. Completing something is much more of an achievement than just going half way on something and for that a whole will always beats half, but that is just my opinion
it was half past twelve and the black bird was waiting near the window pane on a thin branch for the window to barely open. It did, and as it did the bird flew in. Inside there was a creature that looked like a small man with tall ears. It caught the bird in mid flight and… I can’t write with this demented keyboard…
half of the world is unbelievably rich, the other half unbelivably rich, why is that so? im more of a glass half full gal, well most of the time i do try… i spent half of this time thinking of things to write…:(
I stayed on my half of the bed, just staring as you lie away reading in the dim light of one bedside lamp. I watched your eyes start to fall shut as your brain was sinking into dreams that had nothing to do with the essay you were reading. I watched your lips silently forming each letter, caught in a gape when you were treading back over the same sentence to seek meaning. I stayed on my half only until you put the paper down.
Half, is what you get when you divide something by two. So what if we’re two? Why do we have to be divided into half? You’re the other half of me, but where are you? Sometime’s half can’t live without the other half. It’s true, for me and you…
half is good because if the half is something you don’t really desire, then you only have to deal with half of it insead of all of it. half is good because if it the half of something is something that you REALLY want then at least you get to share half
sami
Half of the time, I couldnt even think about him. The other half, I could. On one half, he was a lying, cheating, bastard that I couldnt stand. On the other half, he was sweet and he bought me food. Choices.
Half. Half is a part of a whole. I drank half a couple of milk this morning with my cream and coffee. It is not quite half way through the year yet but in January it will be half way through the year. Half is a part of a pizza. I can eat half of a pizza.
Which half is the question? The bottom half or the top half? Why are we using the word half since all we want is everything whole while we buy our stuff in half, maybe a nice question for school?
not finished. almost. a work in progress. a journey.
Halfs are not great. Not great at all. What’s good if it’s a half and not a whole? Half only give you half benifits, whole, give you whole benifits. Therefore, half is not benificial at all.
To one finds the other, the magical divide. A split – me. you. Somewhere in between, in the place where neither of us are, is where we find us. Together, in our separateness. Finding unity in the ether. You are the positive that pronounces the negative that makes the whole conduit electric.
Half the time she was sitting beside him, Jeanne felt like her body was on fire. His touch sent shivers down her spine, the simplest of looks sent her into a dizzy fit. Each and every day she had said nothing to him, but now was her chance to shine. She’d worn her favorite outfit, did her hair and makeup, and confidence radiated through her being. She began to walk forward, but then paused. What if someone had already claimed him? What if he wasn’t hers?
Is the glass half full or half empty? Half offers such potential, a glimmer into what’s ahead, a taste of more to come, dip your toe in and move to half way
I’m only left with half my heart.
This is thanks to you,
guess I shouldn’t have given up
too much for me to lose.
I trusted you more than you know
we all make mistakes.
I won’t make that one again,
Can’t afford to break.
half a glass of wine is better than none
always keep positive that life is always going to get better and better
always see that glass as half full —– of really good wine
live like that!!
I hate half. Half is the worst number ever. I hate it. I hate you and I hate myself. Sorry For this.
wishing she could take
those half-empty eyes
pour the life back into them
make you full…
wishing she could
take a needle
sew your two parts back into one…
but then we create a bloody mess don’t we?
Half. That was all. No more no less. Half. Take it or leave it. Seeing as how I had done 90% of the word the arrangement didn’t seem too fair. But like they said, I was not in a position to bargain.
“Half,” I said, defeated.
The other – what – bit – dimension – the whole sixpendce – the id for the ego the matter for the dark – all measure and counter all light and -well, half—light?
All measures have at least two; and just occasionally, there may be three or more. Or so Fred had told me. That was why, looking at the platter before me, there was more than the sense that – as I had uttered to myself on more than one occassion – Fred was full of bull. Except…
Half going to itself is just as valid as a whole. Wholes are made by halves, they shouldnt forget that.
Half. Half of everything, half of anything. Half of me. Half of you. But it will never be full. It will never be how I want it. Why do you hate me? I said sorry…What do you want? I’m trying to tell you. But you changed. You changed into a idiot. I just don’t know anymore…..I miss you. I miss how you cared. But when I told you the truth…you walked away. You walked away from me. You walked away from us. A small maybe, turned into this? I need you. Why aren’t you here anymore? We’ve split. Split in half. Halves are never good enough. It never will be. Why aren’t you trying anymore? I need you here. Your never there anymore. I cry for when we can be friends. It’s never like this Once I say Hi, and open up to you, why did you leave? Don’t you know I can’t take it anymore? Don’t you know I miss us? Our friendship? What did I do? I told you the truth. And you hate me. You hate me so much…….I can’t take it. I miss you and our friendship. Why are you so far away? You make it seem as if we’re so close….Yet we’re so far. We’ve drifted. Drifted away, into nothing. Halves. I will try though. I will try the hardest that I can. I want you to see, I miss you. I miss you here. In my mind, your still here. Your not trying. Have we really split? I won’t believe it. I will become better. Because halves never will be.
half an hour left, how much of my home work could I accomplish in that time? Not much is my guess but better try anyway, I want to go to college and that needs work.. I can dream I guess.
Some people see the glass as half empty. Some as half full. I don’t see the glass as even existing. It is what it is, we can’t change shit, so get over it and just be happy that you’re alive and kicking….honestly. A glass?
so, my other half, where are you hiding? In the bus, just two seats in front of me? In the shop, miscounting my change? Are you hiding in the bushes under my window, sneaking glances at my silhouette at night? Are you here right now, throwing cool blue arms around my neck, and whispering into the skin of my shoulder?
Half of me is residing in my hometown, halfway across the world. And here I am, trying to adapt to these new faces and places and street-names. The lingo is strange. My tongue twists in confusion. My other half sleeps peacefully and dances in the streets. At least part of me is at home.
my glass is half full. My life is half way there. I am half way there. We’re all half something. Half is there. Always there. Nothing can stop you from being half something.
Half?i think of accents. like myf friend steph. she has this great new york accent so veryime she says half it doesnt really sound like half but hhaaaaaaeeeffff.
Only partially. Not whole. Twins. Only one part. Never enough. Split both ways.
Half empty? or half full? halfway through my life, if I live to be one hundred, I have a choice: will I dwell on the things I did not achieve? Or will I celebrate life half full.
It was a half measure – it always was though, wasn’t it? No warmth, just fear. Caution-filled words released into a pervasive silence. Downcast eyes and hesitant steps. Anything to avoid what was happening. And it wasn’t right – they knew it wasn’t – but they did it anyway because it was simple. It was a sordid sort of safety and it would shield them until the day it failed. But they didn’t have to deal with that now – not now. Someday, perhaps. Some other day to feel the conflict, to confront it, nurture it. Some other day to see the sun or to be buried alive.
Is there only one word provided each day? I could see this as a great exercise for aspiring artists or writers. I want to use this idea for a creative writing class. Each day they have to log on to this site and write for one minute. Great idea.
half of a whole is what you will discover when you cut something by fifty percent. Completing something is much more of an achievement than just going half way on something and for that a whole will always beats half, but that is just my opinion
A half is not a whole. Is the glass half empty, or is the glass half full?
Two and half men
.5
half dollar
half ass
it was half past twelve and the black bird was waiting near the window pane on a thin branch for the window to barely open. It did, and as it did the bird flew in. Inside there was a creature that looked like a small man with tall ears. It caught the bird in mid flight and… I can’t write with this demented keyboard…
half of the world is unbelievably rich, the other half unbelivably rich, why is that so? im more of a glass half full gal, well most of the time i do try… i spent half of this time thinking of things to write…:(
My other half. The other half of my mind? My reason? It’s split, like my mother’s.
I stayed on my half of the bed, just staring as you lie away reading in the dim light of one bedside lamp. I watched your eyes start to fall shut as your brain was sinking into dreams that had nothing to do with the essay you were reading. I watched your lips silently forming each letter, caught in a gape when you were treading back over the same sentence to seek meaning. I stayed on my half only until you put the paper down.
Far in beyond
the good half
or the bad half
of our forests
thick is a clearing,
a silent space
at our center…
I will wait for you
–
there.
of cake.
Far in beyond
the good half
or the bad half
of our forests thick
is clearing,
a silent space
at our center…
I will wait for you
–
there.
“Being in possession of one half of a dollar is twice as good as having a quarter.” -Benjamin Franklin