half

People aren’t whole people anymore.
They’re half people.
Half in, half out.
They half want you but they half don’t.
One half likes the idea but the other half can’t deal with the logistics.
They mean half of what they say and don’t do half of what they mean.
They turn back halfway down the road.
They leave things half-said halfway through.
And the two halves, they don’t communicate. They don’t even speak the same language. So one half doesn’t even realize (except maybe somewhere really deep inside…) that there’s another half and that the two of them could make a whole. And since each half is blind and deaf to the other half people go about their business, perfectly oblivious, thinking they are whole.
In their obvious halfness, they think they are whole.
So they shrug their shoulders.
And they brush the dust off.
Casually. Nonchalantly.
Because when you’re half a person I guess it’s easy to only deal with half the stuff and only carry half the heartache.
(Especially when you get to choose which half to carry.)