"Keys" or "Our Names, Ourselves"

My place in things was never manifest
when it was so simple to see how the others fit,
Their identity to summarize
and their self to categorize.
It's much more difficult for me.

I could define them:
by their names
and by their impression in me, like damp sand.
But I measured me as a little of too many things, 
and so overall too much of nothing.

I asked an old friend about
what an empty vessel brings
and she said
first that there are kinds,
and how wonderful to be able to hold so much 
of so much worth.
"You have the potential to be remade by what you contain"
she said.
"It's worse when we fill ourselves too quickly."

But the juxtaposition isn't whole.
Next to what?
Is my place then and now, just itself,
or was there a better version?
Has this been my submission against the key?

Of course, there is no key.
Or I was the key for the others,
But there was no key for me.