"Oh woe is me..." the duality of myself.

I lost my keys. Haha, how ridiculous is that? On top of all the other shit I'm dealing with, I lost my only car key. Its sitting outside right now, unused and rusting slowly into oblivion. Good riddance. A new key will set me back £150, money I don't have. Have never had really.
So I'm walking. I'm missing a shift or two at work, because buses don't run before seven, which is when I'm due in Alfreton, a good sixteen miles away. I'm walking everwhere, to work, to the shops, to see people and run errands. My new shoes are rubbing my feet and I have seven blisters. So yeah, I'm pretty miserable right now.

Which is probably a good time to explain my own internal duality. You see, I am two seperate entities really. There is the Tom Badlan writing this. He is a cynical, miserablist. He feels down constantly, he lacks confidence and enthusiasm. He is without direction and purpose. Sometimes he doubts whether anything is really worth the effort.
The second Tom is giggily, maniac, hyperactive and enthused. He is melodramatic, corny, soppy, romantic. He sees wonder and hope in all things, looks at the world through rose coloured glasses and is in love with the idea of existence.

These two men exist and they live inside me. So what? you may ask, we all have those sides to us. Of course you're right. What frightens, and I use that word purposefully, is the speed and severity in which I inhabit these personas. I swing violently to each one without rhyme or reason. I am either blissfully happy and riciculously amused or I am depressed, anxious and deafeatist. And for me, it seems, there is no happy medium.

Ask anyone who knows me. This is who I am. A Jekyll and Hyde.
Right now, with things spiralling away from me, Hyde has reared his ugly, self-obsessed, dejected head. When things pick up (and they will inevitably pick up, life is if not anything else, swings and roundabouts) I will be rejuvinated. I will bounce off of the walls, driving my housemates to distraction, laughing like Homer Simpson and a Japanese schoolgirl all rolled into one. The question is, I suppose, which of these men is really me?

Perhaps both.