Wallet Full of Nothing

My wallet contains: 23 dollars, driver's license, credit card, library card, house key, and business cards. Overall, not much. The wallet itself is very worn out leather. Obviously, the driver's license tells plenty about who I am, but it doesn't give much insight into my actual identity. The money is generic and wouldn't say much either. A house key might make them think I don't have a car, since if I did the key would be on that keychain. Its not correct, but its what they might think. Not every person has a library card, but they are common enough to not necessarily say anything specifically about me, and the credit card is the same.

That leaves the business cards. All of them are the same, copies of my own business card that my dad made for me partly as a joke. The card is for the Mill Creek Yacht & Polo Club, and lists me as the CTO (Chief Technical Officer). Stuff like my email address, phone number, and geographical coordinates are on it. I'm not a member of the club itself, but I created the logo, set up the website, and email for it. A random person wouldn't know all that, but would think I was a member of the club. Which would make me seem like some posh, rich person. An old, beat up wallet doesn't fit with that, and neither does the age they would get from my license - 19.

In the end, nothing in my wallet would paint a very clear picture about my identity. There are no objects in my possession that would accomplish anything of the sort. Part of the problem is that I don't know how I would actually define myself. Some people use religion, some use family, some use places. I don't view myself that way. Nothing I have is of value to me as a being. My life is one of detachment.