Half full, full empty

I can relate to the local train. When it's empty, it wobbles a lot while the breeze seeps in from all directions. It makes a strange yet harmonic clanging noise as the hanging straps collide with the rod above. It seems like it's moving faster though. A zen monk sans the demons. But when it reaches the next station, there is an underwhelming sense of wasted energy and time as the passengers aren't oozing out. That emptiness is unbearable. On the other hand, when it's full—brimming with people literally stuffed in—the train has a purpose. So many hold on it and that's a worthy feeling. It's willing to carry the load and wouldn't even mind if some unlucky souls lose grip hanging outside or some get knocked out on the jaywalking railway track. To the train, the reputation of being full of passengers is more important than the infamy of being a mass murderer. Being a human who has his ever-changing phase of holeness and wholeness, i can totally relate to it.