Disclaimer: I do not own Star Wars or any of the characters or places of weapons or ideas or… enough said.

Surprise! I wasn't expecting to write this, but it just sort of happened. So, here it is!

Be forewarned, it's very metaphorical!

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I hate labels.

There are many things I hate. The thing I hate most varies from day to day, or minute to minute, but right now, at this moment, I hate labels worse than I hate just about anything else.

Part of the reason I hate them so much is that I've had so many of them.

I'm like a jar, you see. Jars have labels so you know what's inside them. But sometimes the labels can be wrong. Sometimes there's something different inside from what the labels say.

There was once a time when I didn't have any labels at all. I don't remember this time very well; I was much too young. I may even have had labels then, but I didn't know about them yet.

The first label I remember was "Slave." I was born a slave, and that was the label on my jar. Back then, though, I didn't let labels define me. The person I cared about most wore the same label, so it didn't matter. She saw me for who I really was. I was Annie, her own precious little boy.

Other people would read me my label day in and day out. Watto, my owner, must have shouted it at me a least thirty times each day; and even my friends were not above reminding me what I was. But with my mom, it was all okay. She didn't care what the label on the jar said; she knew what was inside, and she liked it.

Then the Jedi came, bringing with them the girl. She read my label and saw past it, just as my mother did. The older Jedi saw past it too, and helped me reach the point where I could rip it off. For just the briefest span of time, I was label-free.

But I soon found out that I got my "slave" label removed only to make room for two more labels: "Jedi Padawan" and "Chosen One." Significantly nicer labels to bear than "Slave", that's certain, but labels nonetheless. And these labels were a lot bigger and took up a lot more space. That's when I started to let the labels cover over what I had inside.

As I grew, I got a few more labels applied to me. I was considered "headstrong", "reckless", "uncontrollable", and even "troubled." Honestly, I tried to have "Jedi Padawan" and "Chosen One" inside, like my labels said, but I ended up with all that other stuff inside, too. In the end, I started to enjoy having those things inside me and took pride in them. The little bit of "Jedi Padawan' and "Chosen One" I did have inside got diluted by the other stuff.

And all those extra labels took up even more extra room.

One day, I got my "Jedi Padawan" label removed and replaced with a label that read, "Jedi Knight." I was really proud of this label – but it was even bigger than the other one had been!

And if that wasn't enough, I got still more labels pasted on me. "The Hero With No Fear" and "The Warrior of the Infinite". These were also huge; they covered up the last empty spaces on my jar. I was proud of them, and tried hard to make what was inside my jar match what the labels said.

I failed.

Not that it mattered; because with all those labels covering the sides of my jar, no one could see what was inside anyway.

A funny thing happens when a jar has that many labels on it. No one can see what's really in the jar, so everyone treats it like one or more of the labels. And that's what happened to me. I got treated like what my labels said I was, even as I tried to make what I was into what the labels said.

But when the things in a jar get used like they're things that they really aren't, sometimes they do get changed. If the jar tries to make them something different than what they originally were, like I did, the changing process is accelerated even more. When the things in the jar change like that, they can end up being what their labels say.

But sometimes the things in the jar change so they're not good anymore.

And that's what happened to me.

The things in my jar changed so much that I got all of my old labels ripped off and replaced with new ones. Labels like, "Sith Lord" and "The Emperor's Enforcer" and "Monster." Even with these labels, there was still plenty of clear space to see what was inside my jar.

And I didn't like what was inside. I still don't.

Because what's inside me isn't good anymore.

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Six months later…

Now, more than ever, I hate my labels.

But not as much as I hate what's inside my jar.

It's crammed full. And it's all bad.

I've even tried emptying some of the bad stuff out, to make room for some good, but it's all stuck in there. I can't get it out.

Ever.

It is too late for me.

And now I have nothing left but badness to give, as I turn my own son over to the Emperor, who will either kill him or fill his jar with evil as he has mine. How can I be so cruel? Even I don't understand.

Yet I take my place, do my job, and fulfill the labels on my jar yet again. I help the Emperor with his plan. I clash lightsabers with my son. I do my best to pour anger and hatred, fear and aggression into his jar. He keeps his lid on very tightly, but every once in a while, it slips. And when it does, I pour badness and evil in through the opening.

And he pours it back out.

I am amazed, but I continue to pour out my own vile badness. And suddenly, his jar opens wide. I nearly fill it up with evil, but…

He is attacking me. Viciously. And he is winning.

And now, he has taken my arm, just as I took his, and vengeance floods his jar. A very little more, and his jar will contain "Sith Lord," like mine. I have no doubt the Emperor will give him a label to match.

Even now, he comes to apply it. But suddenly, all of the "Sith Lord" drains out of my son, and it is replaced by pure "Jedi Knight." And the "Sith Lord" label somehow won't stick.

So the Emperor tortures him with lightning of hate, trying to force some "Sith" back into his jar. It won't work; there's too much "Jedi" in there. No room for "Sith."

And I, full of "Sith Lord" and evil as I am, stand and watch in despicable silence.

But my son pleads desperately amid his screams of pain.

"Father, please!"

And suddenly, something comes floating to the top of my jar. Some tiny bit of goodness that had stayed hidden, buried by all that badness and evil, is dredged up by the call of my son.

Only just in time, I bring that goodness into action. With every gram of strength I have, I come between the Emperor and my son, lift the Emperor over the rail, and hurl him down the shaft to his death. The pain is excruciating, filling and shaking and straining the walls of my jar, but they hold.

And then it is over. My jar is empty, completely empty.

Now I want so desperately to tear off my labels, but they will not come off.

I suddenly feel that my jar is very fragile.

And for a while, that is all I know.

Soon, I find I am trying to follow my son, but we are both weak. I am more so, and eventually my strength gives out. My jar is cracking. I want so badly to be rid of these labels, but they are stuck on forever.

I must look past them. I have something to tell my son. I ask him to help me to see him with my own eyes. He does, and I receive one of the greatest gifts I have ever known in my whole life. My jar fills up with love until it begins to leak out the cracks.

But it will not hold much longer. I must hurry.

"Tell your sister… you were right. You were right about me."

It is all I can manage. With these words, my jar finally shatters.

But this is not the end. Something strange is happening. All that I am is being lifted up, and put into a new jar, one larger than my old one and harder and clearer than a Corusca gem.

And all that I am is love, and peace, and joy, and hope, and contentment, and light, and husband, and father, and friend. And yes, Jedi Knight and Chosen One. Only this time, I really am all of these things instead of just trying to be and missing the mark.

It is what I was meant to be.

I am finally, simply, Anakin Skywalker.

And that will always be clear for all to see, because somehow I know:

No label will ever cover me again.