Perhaps one thing about me which I would not want anyone to contest is the way I handle stress. I am a very patient person when it counts, and rarely do I let any trace of anger and annoyance mar my nerves. Twenty-four years spent dealing with such baggage, I should have learned a thing or two on how to deal with them without letting spots of negativity leak off at the most inopportune of situations. Oft times, it can be tempered easily by simply closing my eyes and counting one to ten, a serving of ice cream, or maybe a lollipop (or three).
There might be moments when a dull sensation throbs on a random spot around my abdomen or neck area -- a usual physical manifestation I have learned to expect. But the only visible reaction which may cross my face, if pressed, is a faint combination of a smile and a nod. If any sound within my immediate radius ceases to a wall of silence, then that's a distinct sign a line has been crossed. If, however, I am required to talk, and I respond with a clear, solid, cold voice, then that's crossing a line further.
One more, and we're stepping on uncharted territory. Consider this a warning.
