With a downtrodden sigh, Stress digs his hands through white streaks of disheveled hair, threatening to tear them out from his scalp after failing yet again to be productive today.

He smooths out the untamed strands back in place, only to throw his head back with an aggravated groan. A rush of energy runs in his blood streams like a turbulent river, generating a twister within him. His mind gears are malfunctioning the more he thinks, jagged parts shifting awkwardly with other jagged parts. He's a volcano, prone to eruption at every waking moment.

"Enough, enough!" he screams to the rooftops, his eyes going wide with a maniacal craze.

His neighbors tell him to shut up, but he doesn't register.

He is Stress and he will drive you to the brink of explosion.