No object defines me: Not on its own or in concert with any number.
My friends show the type of company I keep, but they are not who I am – or who I want to be.
It may be good; it may be sinful – and while it may be true – what others think of me doesn’t define who I am.
The intentions behind my actions and the things I connect with – shape my interaction in the present,
but it does not define me.
Why is there a need?
What purpose is served?