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I'm me. Depending on whether you go by my current self, my past self, what I dress like, what I act like, what I think like, the kind of girls I go after, the music I listen to, I hit every one of those categories.
Trying to label myself is about as easy as trying to cram my hyper, unflexible 6'8" self into a 3-foot cube. Sure, it's possible if you try hard enough, but it really isn't worth the effort, and all it does is casue soreness and grumpiness.
Categorizing me makes as much sense as the way a clean-shaven, short-haired agnostic came to be nicknamed "Jesus." Sure, it happened, but it's not logical.
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