Until today I did'n know what my personality was. I have a little of everything. Then I read about the LEGALIST. Wow, that's me! In OPTIMA FORMA. I am writing it now and it seems that I am proud of it. Maybe I am, but I am glad that I now know what I am. I felt it in whole of my body, it became very heavy, when I read this. So I know it is true. What do I have to do now with this knowledge? Nothing! Knowing and accepting is enough. Yesterday I changed my avatar. I have put in a painting I made 10 years ago about a dove who is flying to earth to bring peace. This is not just a coincidence, this is me. This is what I want, this is my intention, bring peace all over the world. I feel if I am a Messenger of God. This sounds very loftily, but this is my feeling. I have a strong sense of right and wrong, very responsible, This brings me often in difficult situations. At work colleaques look down on me, because I do my job as it should, according to the rules. (I am a taxibusdriver and got a price for best driver in the province, clients have chosen me) I can not depart from the rules. In my practice I saw people who denied everything I had to tell, but I saw it, I felt it. This is one of the reasons people stayed away, because they can't stand the truth. One can not stand the truth, I can't live without the truth. This reminds me of when I was about 3 years. I saw the world around me, I could't do anything with it. The people around me act differently then they really are. I didn't wont to be a part of this. At 4 I had to go to school, I didn't wont that. I didn't wont to learn things that where not interresting to live my life. I was early wise and didn't wont to go in in the society I lived. There was no one who I could talk to. I locked myself and said to myself; when I am older, my time will come. Then I went in survivalmode until I was 40. I wake up and remind me these words. I went into therapy. My youngest brother had the same when he was about 3 or 4. But he did open his mouth. He talked. When he went to school, the director could not handle my brother who was very sensitive. The director of the school told my mother it was the best for my brother to send him to a reformatory. There he got shock therapy. My brother has never recovered from this.He died at 24. With love, Rozie.