Forces

I want to write something happy.  I choose to be happy.  Happiness, peace, contentment, I've long since learned that it is all a choice.  One shouldn't be dependent on anyone or anything for happiness.

Such a choice is hard though, when forces conspire against you.  The instinct is to withdraw from the stove.  The hand is burning, isn't it?  There is fire.  The alarms are going off.  

But I'm not a creature of instinct.  I'm a creature of rational thought, of patience, of control.  And I'll not flee.  For stress, is strength.