I could not live without labels. I label EVERYTHING. I actually get really annoyed at people who refused to be labeled, just because it's a label. I won't say it outloud most of the time, but when some states that, I make a point in my mind to attach one to them first.
Semi-related, if I know or suspect someone has labeled me I'll make a point to do something incongruous with that label.
I tell people that my soulmate from my high school years (who loved me very much despite him being gay) died of brain cancer. While it's true that he had it, it wasn't the cancer that ultimately killed him. He was murdered in his home country of Belgium, just a few days after he messaged his last words to me.
I still have not forgotten his last words to me, and I still have not forgotten the day I was told the truth about his death. His murderer will suffer one day, but not at my hands - I only feel pity for her at this point.
Only she who attempts the absurd can achieve the impossible... and then some.
Back when I was 19 I took Hapkido, a martial art, for a couple of years. I can't do it anymore, my back is too screwed up to handle falls and violent twisting motions, but I miss it. The art had a philosophy to it, about energy and strategy and those things took deep root into my brain. Now, I interpret most interactions, conceptual, verbal, physical, emotional in the metaphor of conflict of kinesthetic energy. Scope of range, grounding, harmonizing, redirection, focused strike.