Reginald Jepson, the illegitimate son of Sir Percival Jepson, an English ambassador, and a Japanese geisha named Mir Ling, was raised in Sheffield, England, and schooled at Oxford. He was overall a kindly fellow but one that could just as well be easily annoyed. A man of culture and learning, he all too clearly saw how the cruder members of the human race, as he put it, could find ways to exemplify modes and means of behaviour that he took issue with, no matter how he wished they wouldn't, couldn't, or shouldn't do what they did, nor could he find it within him the ability to condone their actions. 
In a nutshell, the behaviours of people rankled him. 
While he knew that these others could never be like him, he fervently prayed for some sort of resolution to come to his mind over these matters for the torment it caused him was relentless. Some days it was more, some days it was less, and no matter how he tried to pinpoint the cause of his distress and dismay in hopes of alleviating it he could not, for people's actions could be attributed to numerous factors, all of which were out of his control. His say in any matter mattered not, nor would his input ever be heeded by those he often mentally pleaded with to "Please curtail your annoying activities!" 
  What to do, what to do? 

He tried drink, but that was not allowed during the busy portions of the day when annoying behaviours were at their peak. Of what use was drink afterward, when he was mulling over the day's events at home, and rueing the moments when he thought negatively about people, wished them unwell, and mentally threw comments their way, all this in order to quell the inner torment he felt inside? 
He tried prayer, and religion, which espoused loving one's fellow man, but he loved them not, though he tried, he surely and sorely tried. Of what use was it to love your brother or sister if they loved you not back? How many times could one turn the other cheek, for after a while it became sore from all the slapping!
  He tried to ignore other's patterns of behaviour, but that's like telling someone to not notice the elephant in the room. He tried to justify people's actions by saying that they did not know any better, that they were 'unaware'. That didn't work either for when would they ever become aware? Not soon, from the looks of things. It seemed the only reason many people were on the earth was to simply annoy Reginald Jepson, and when it came to the ability to annoy, they were masters at it. 
Television brought annoying people, events, and situations into Reginald's home every night, and most TV channels thrived on bringing such fare to his table. Of non-annoying stations there were few, but those ran annoying commercials! The internet, when it arrived, bought more choices but, you know- on the internet, anything goes.
Over time, Reginald Jepson became a recluse. He holed up in his house, only leaving if he had to, in order to keep his exposure to annoyances to a minimum. But, one can only do that for so long because more annoying than the annoying people that annoyed him was the call of Life, with a capital L, to come out and play. Life called and called, pestered and vexed, insisted and beckoned, would not take no for an answer no matter what answer Reginald gave but still Reginald would not move. 
So Life moved him.
Life, and Reginald's soul, the greater part of him, conspired to plunge Reginald into circumstance that would cause him to face his greatest fears and no greater fear for Reginald was losing the tidy sum of money he had inherited, which happened, and "Now what?" was the question. Unable to magically manifest more o' the green, Reginald, sound of body, was faced with the prospect of going to work, something he had never done, for he had grown up moneyed. 
Work was to be his crucible, where over time, over many years in fact, he was faced with and faced directly the most annoying people on God's green earth and though many times he thought he was about to die, and wished to, God would not let him for dying would not serve Reginald Jepson. He could, if he fervently wished it, die, for at a deep soul level he had that right, but the wiser part of him vetoed that notion for it saw the benefits that were to come were Reginald to choose to stick it out. 
There were times when it was touch and go, and those watching Reginald's progress from unseen bleachers were on the edge of their seats, not knowing what he'd do, how he'd react, but they were also rooting for him and he felt it, he felt their presence though he did not know what 'it' was- relief in a dream, a sudden feeling of peace or confidence, a 'chance' encounter with a well wisher, or an encounter with a teacher who espoused timely and profound knowledge- not in a great hall, but in an ordinary setting. 
And so, in regards to Life, Reginald's annoyances became less and less until one day he noticed something, something he had never experienced before- a situation that had annoyed him greatly in the past he had no reaction to in the present. He thought that he had arrived. 
He had. But in the very next day another, similar situation vexed him terribly and he relapsed, thinking that all he had gained was suddenly lost, and it was. For a while. But peace returned, a little longer this time. 
On and on this back and forth process went, for sooooo long that he thought he'd never get there but when he did get there he didn't even know he had arrived until months later, so subtle was his crossing of the threshold. 
Nowadays annoyance rises in him and passes away in seconds. He can't ever get rid of it, this he has learned. It's part of who he is. He simply watches it arise, and then dissipate, knowing that it's not going to overtake him. It's just a thing that happens, like lifting a hand to scratch an itch. You do it and it's done and that's all the thought you give it. 

Life goes on. And on, and on. Perhaps someday we will be in another dimension, and our bodies will have changed into light. We'll look different than we do now, and maybe we won't think about things so much, we'll just know. And nobody knows how this will happen, but it's probably not going to happen overnight and when it dawns on somebody how much we've all changed, it'll be years after the fact, when some historian measures our progress. 

"Wow!" we'll think. Life will go on for us, the multifarious variations of Reginald Jepson in the world.