First thought, best thought

I'm pretty good at cutting apples into quarters, slicing the cores out, and halving the pieces. I'm good at eating the apples too. I can make coffee pretty well, grinding the beans while the water boils, pouring the water through the filter and warming the mug, then coaxing the beans to release their crema, and warming milk that just tops the cup. Sweeping, mopping and laundry are also strong suits.

It's funny though, no matter how many things I do well, my mind resets to a single conclusion. "I should be dead."

And I'm told this isn't how most of the world sees the range of available options. But fuck it. When I was in fourth grade, we had multiplication tests every other day. I couldn't do them fast enough. I was a total failure. I only got through about half before time was called, and I kept having to do the 3-times test over and over. I would sit at the kitchen table on Sunday afternoons and attempted to complete the test within 5 minutes. And not being able to do it. Waves of hot failure shame washed over me. I would break down into tears and try again. Back in class, I stood at Mrs. Paulette's desk, waiting for my test to be graded. When the check-minus was written on it, I would crumple. The TA looked at me and said, "You don't need to be so hard on yourself." I replied straight-faced, "Well, if I'm not hard on myself, who will be?"

The best thing for me to do in times of stress is to obliterate all evidence of my failure. Chopping down the tree at the root seems have sent out shoots seeking moisture, wrapping around pipes and choking the underground network of manmade structures in its blind push to the sun.