The difference between half and whole may always seem obvious; half will always be less than whole and that is something I have always been reminded of. Of course anyone’s first impression of something that has been halved is that it is less good than a whole, for instance would you accept only half a cake when you can have the whole thing? Probably not. But similarly wholes don’t always necessarily account for good because let’s be honest, if you ate a whole cake, you would feel sick.

When my family was torn by a divorce, halves became the going theme of my life. The unit I once called parents was split in two, as were all the birthdays, Christmases and responsibilities. For a while, I believed halves could work, that two of everything was going to be easy and fun. But as I started to understand the complexities that is life and all the messy attachments that came with it, I wished more and more I was part of a new whole. Everything being split in half meant I had to work twice as hard to make up for it, everything being split in half meant I had to make twice as much sacrifices to make up for it. And halves never applied to the raw power of an emotional teen; anger, frustration and sadness were always felt as an overwhelming whole. Before I knew it, whole emotions were tormenting me and distracting me from my goals, from my responsibilities and I felt alone, I felt teased by all the halves in my life and felt cheated that I could never achieve my own whole. Was this going to be the epitome of my existence?

Submitted by Anonymous