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 bad, and while they 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, shapes my interaction in the present, but it does not define me.
Why is there a need?
What purpose is served?