I think the title basically explains it as bluntly as possible. I’m not studying for a huge exam that’s what, worth 40% of my mark? I should be more worried, but I’m just not in the right mindset to do it.

I wouldn’t say I’m totally angry or totally melancholic to the point of complete lethargy. I guess I wish I could be doing something else.

Through those minutes uploading these random pictures (of absolutely nothing, mind you), I began to ponder a rather simple question:

“What kind of friend are you?”

It’s a healthy question to ponder, I suppose, even though I’m uncertain about the answer.

I’m not quite the go-to friend. These are the types that you can count on for their expertise when you need them most, like proofreading, arguing, art-infused projects or for a silver tongue. I may be lightly seasoned in a versatile array of arts and skills, I can’t really say I’m actually good at anything. I personally wouldn’t try to seek me out for any particular reason for help because, well, I’m not really “good” at anything.

At the same time, I’m not quite the friend you look for when you want to feel more superior to someone else. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not claiming that I’m better than anyone. It might be because I’m not well-suited enough to your expensive tastes, yet on other days I might be a tiny bit overwhelming. Some days I feel human, and other days I’d rather be a snake. Many times, however, I have absolutely no desire to gauge my worth against someone else because I simply don’t operate in the same currency. My value may be just as worthless to you as a pound of inoperable gold mistaken for fools’.

I’m not quite the party friend either. I certainly concur that I’m the last person you’d invite for a drink at a bar – I can’t drink shit anyways! I don’t smoke anything, I don’t shoot anything up, and no level of ethanol will touch my alcohol dehydrogenase. Even if I did, I doubt I’d find any interest getting myself shit-faced to look like a complete imbecile. I’d rather read.

I guess that’s also one thing too. I’m not the most exciting person in the world either. I can’t say I’d ever find a point in time where I’m absolutely invigorated to strike a pointless conversation with someone unless I knew they’d be interested in it. Even then, what the hell are my interests, anyways? I couldn’t really name anything that any simpleton would find any remote interest in, nor could I find anything that I would want to talk about in particular. I guess I just like to keep to myself.

Not being a social butterfly probably reflects a lot on the type of friend I could really end up being – an antisocial prude. However, I don’t think that really describes me all that well – as far as I can tell, I’m not socially awkward, and I don’t do calculus on my spare time (not that there’s anything wrong with that. All the power to you if this is one of your interests). And I’m not quite a prude either – a lot of times I’m thinking “who gives a fuck?” Sometimes I think that when people are talking to me. Sometimes – I promise.

Does that make me a carefree, reckless jock that runs around to hump anything that moves? What? Sex? Since when have I ever been interested in that?

Going back to interests, I don’t like anime; I don’t like rap, rock, country, pop, or any of that shit on the radio these days; I haven’t read that many books; I’m not smart, but I’m not stupid either; I’m not a complete atheist, but I’m no bible humper; I don’t like talking about hot women, but I’d display just as much distaste and lack of interest talking about men too; I’m not the most happiest person in the world, but I’m not melodramatic; I don’t look at the sky often, but neither do I look down holes.

Does that mean I’m doomed to loneliness?

I guess a night like this is good enough for me. A night of trip-hop and ambiance; a blog to write in; a computer I continually like to modify; a desk full of papers with what I love most – medicine, chemistry and general science; a cup of water; two parents that extend their role as altruistic parents rather than altruistic “friends”; a makeshift camera; clothes on my body; and ample lighting is good enough for me.

I guess that’s what makes me such a terrible friend. Friends are transient, and they change to the weather. No matter what kind of winds blow this direction, I’m as stubborn as a Taurus – immobile, but loyal.

So no, I guess I don’t want to be your friend. I’d rather be your comrade, your brother, your son or your guardian, or anything along those lines, because “friends” are just too temporary for my liking.

Loneliness? Probably. It puts me several steps closer to wearing a rope-bound hooded, cotton robe with the colour of Terra’s stratus corneum. Wait, would I even be allowed to wear something like that, hypothetically speaking?

This could go on for hours. I think it’s time to go back to metabolic biochemistry.