There she was, lying unconscious after a severe blow from me. The chase had been long but I was filled with exuberance. I did have blood on my hands, but I convinced myself it was nothing compared to the blood she had on hers. After all, she was the bloodsucking one! I washed my hands thoroughly without shifting my gaze from her. I kept watching her carefully. She was still breathing. She was alive and trying to move her limbs occasionally. A part of me was glad she was alive. But then I realised she was only HALF ALIVE! She was HALF DEAD.
I moved closer to her to inspect the damage my blow had caused her. I was trying to control my breathing so as to not disturb the lull that room had slipped into. When I saw her closely I realised she was still trying to move but couldn’t. And then suddenly it hit me that her life had become useless. There was no point of being HALF ALIVE. She would never be able to move again. No one was coming to get her out of here either.
And that’s when it dawned upon me. The real understanding of the word HALF. What good is HALF? Half alive, half conscious, half willed, half loved, half hearted or half anything. Half dead even! In definition, HALF means a full part of two equals, but in that also, HALF is not half as good, until it’s HALF full!
Yes it took me a ten minute reflection, and a half murder to understand the full depth of the word HALF.
And my wisdom said- don’t give half, don’t be half, don’t do half, don’t think half and most of all, don’t accept half. Even if you’re one half of something full, make sure both halves are full. Whether it’s friendship, relationship, partnership- unless the HALF is full, it’s only half of half and there’s no point of being a full to someone’s half!
The only half you must accept is when someone unexpectedly offers you a half of something they love- an icecream, a piece of chocolate or a place in their bedroom!
Oh bedroom! That's where she was lying HALF dead, which was as good as full dead in her case. Unless I was a part of some prime time Soap opera where someone cared enough to avenge the death of a mosquito, she- whom I had almost killed, was going to be soon forgotten.
So with a heavy heart, I gently picked her up- the mosquito. The mosquito I brought down with my blow after a long chase, who was lying in front of me, helping me decode the word "Half". I picked her up gently between my thumb and index finger, walked to the wash basin, placed her inside carefully, turned the tap on and washed her away. Washed her of her life which had ended the moment she was HALF dead!