Its easier to start with who am I not.
I am not a tortured soul. I wish I was, but I am not. I can pretend to be tortured, and I sometimes do, but its mostly just to fill a rather vague void in a rather purposeless existence. I did not really have a bad childhood, no matter how much I might want to get caught in all sorts of neo-Freudian pyschobabble. I am rather glad I grew up in obscurity in a corner of Asia, so no one got a chance to find the many disorders I might have. Now that would have really screwed up with my head.
So who am I?
I am a learner. No matter who you are, no matter how boring you might sound to yourself, if you know something I do not, you have my undivided attention. And that is the only time you have my attention.
I am bored. I always am. I would say its chronic, but I hate that word. I learn and when I can no longer learn, I move on. My life is an undying quest to ... well no real purpose. Hedonism beckons.
I am an attic of useless obscure trivia and meaningless old memories. And I hate it. Often.
I am a debater. I debate, for no real belief of mine but only to prove the other person wrong. I get great pleasure in showing the follies in others, and nothing pleases me more that talking to someone who can put me in my real place. The world really needs to put us pseudo-intellectuals in our rightful place.
I am a clutter of contradictions. I believe nothing is absolute, and I have no sense of right and wrong, just a boring band of gray that can justify every action. And yet I seem to hold onto a moral compass that unnervingly points in a single direction. And I do not know why.
I am non-linear. I am a rollercoaster of thoughts. Chaotic muddle that play pong in my head. And I love it. Often.
Or maybe I just pretend to be all of the above. I can never be too sure.