Bi-Polar Express

I've had a conversation with a busmate from elementary the night I was mugged. After catching up with each other's lives, he came to tell me how I may be slightly bi-polar.

That's just great really. It means I'm not only spotting 1 train, I'm trainspotting for 2. Of course, it could all be a faulty hypothesis on his part, being a junior med student and all. The implications however ...

... which train am I on? Am I on BOTH trains or am I in the middle of an impending collision between both? Is it ambivalence or merely indecisiveness?

Anyway, I refuse to ask any more questions because I've stopped asking them a long time ago. A peaceful existence comes from killing off certain curiosities. Also, the reason why I'm trying to escape to Carpathia once more is because I don't feel like talking about myself lately and blogging is essentially an eloquent means of exhibitive self-absorption. It's a good cathartic instrument though.

I'm still thankful that with my fcuked up circadian rhythm and bouts with insomnia (and recently, hypersomnia) someone up there still listens and finds ways for people to call me up in the wee hours of the morning. I am here in the middle of disconnection not having sms handy on my handyphone and being on a self-imposed strike against hooking up to the internet. I am here trying to be on middle ground between 2 trains -- a joyride to euphoric optimism and a ride to the center of the Maleborge, Dante's 8th hell, as the fancy quiz once told me.

I am here trying to be indifferent to my differences.