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I was going through a blog and this girl wrote something that I definately could relate to and I was wondering what her perdonality type was. Maybe you guys can help me. This is what she wrote on her blog:

For those who are unaware, I’ve been attending an arts school in New York andamnow embarking on a new path in California. What did I learn in my two year stint of living in New York? Primarily, I am obsessed with finding the ultimate conclusion to my life story. New York helped me to realize that my desire for a happy ending has completely fucked with my current life. Nothing seems worth it unless it is something I am doing to further my career. This is terrible news for someone who just turned 20 about a month ago.

In an honest effort to become something or someone, I did the exact opposite.I losta major sense of who I was as an individual because of my obsession with conclusions. I like to seethe end result of everything I do (even if it’s in the vast distance), it stems frommy controlling and anal nature that is a result of a lifetime full of ballet lessons. Thank you mom? As a dancer since the age of three, I was taught a ‘special’ personality of sorts. It includes being relentless on everyone around me and even more so, on myself. I have decided I am obsessed with perfection, or the idea of it. SHIT, there is another conclusion.

Conclusions are inevitable, everything ends. They are not a problem until your path to the final result becomes unenjoyable. I unfortunately, have made it a problem. In my dance recitals from as far back as I can remember, while the other kids were laughing and taking photos backstage, I was in the corner stressing over all the pieces I was in until the show’s finale. I could not take a deep breath or even smile until the curtain closed and I was out of my frivolous tutu and back in my five year old sweatpants. I guess I was born this way. GODAMN, conclusion!

My insecurities and care for what people think around me has completely hindered all things that could help write my successful ending. Fortunately, the culmination to my experience in New York (for now at least) was that of pure positivity. A mentor of mine sat me down and after two glasses of wine and two hours of being told relentlessly all the mistakes I am making, I (we) concluded that, “Nobody cares.”
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