_concealed_

Patience, for me, is a tricky substance. It seems I can't possess it, and yet I know, I have it in some such way.

I feel like I am still a patient woman after putting up with a lot of lousy things, and more triumphantly, with a few difficult people. I suspect, however, that maybe patience isn't what I have. I may simply be lacking the energy to fight, to demand, to defy at certain times. I tend to have little aptitude for arguments when I know it's pointless. Mind you, when I know I'm right, I will not shut up. It's one of my disorders in an otherwise harmonious living.

My understanding of patience may be amiss and is only existing to me. But whatever it is, it has saved me from further distress.

Or has it?