We smoke halfway, we read halfway, we rejoice halfway, and, in the end, we love halfway. We become so accustomed to living in fragments that even each step we take becomes half-hearted. We search for pieces of meaning in incomplete things, laying out our lives on awkward templates, living a life cut in two.
We argue halfway, letting our complaints roll halfway off our tongues. We kiss with half a mouth, as if afraid to fully commit to the intimacy of the gesture. We caress halves of broken hearts, with a pale tenderness, fearing that a full touch might shatter the fragile illusion of imperfect relationships. We split ourselves in two for the happiness of others, as if our own wholeness doesn’t matter. We hold hands halfway, rushing past other faces, other bodies, sliced in half by the sharp blades of time, each person carrying their own burden of incompleteness.
We fall asleep halfway through a movie, exhausted by the half-lived moments we endure daily, and wake up bewildered in the middle of a night that feels unfinished, sensing that something is missing, though we’re not sure what. We work fully, yet we’re paid halfway—ironic, isn’t it? Perhaps it reflects a world where value is no longer measured by our whole effort but by appearances and half-fulfilled quantities.
We search for ourselves like two halves of a puzzle, convinced that only another «missing piece» can make us whole. We forget that happiness isn’t just another piece waiting to be found, but an entire state we must cultivate within ourselves. On our quest for this happiness, we end up dividing it in half, trying to satisfy our emotional needs on paper while forgetting to apply the full measure of feeling at home.
We smile halfway, hiding beneath the perfect masks of an Ego that refuses to be chipped. We embrace half-measures, accepting only what’s comfortable and convenient, instead of embracing the full reality of another soul. A soul, much like ours, yearning to be made whole through someone else, yet we view them through the lens of our own fears and frustrations.
And when, finally, we find that bit of peace and love, we greet it with suspicion, slicing it in half with cold blood, paralyzed by our own habits and fears. In a world where halves seem to be the norm, wholeness feels like the rare exception. But the truth is, if we continue to settle for halves, we will always feel incomplete.
Stop looking for your other half. Step outside this circle of illusions and seek the whole. Each of us already carries wholeness within—we just need to remember to claim it. People break themselves, they halve themselves, because they are afraid to be whole. But the world is full of halves—what it truly needs is more who dare to be complete.