when i was 9 there was these cunts following me home and talking shit all the time and hitting me and throwing shit at me, and one day i decided to do more than just push them away and tell them to fuck off.
my mum and teachers always said to solve these things without violence, and to befriend them, and be nice with them. so i punched one of them and knocked them out in one punch. then all the wee fuckers ran away on their bikes because they're so hardcore and all that.
are you
sure it wasn't when you were 10?
EDIT: On topic. Probably when I finished that project my brother was supposed to make. Well actually he did make it, but I sort of weakened the structure by fiddling with it a lot. I felt bad so I restored it to how it once was, but I felt like it wasn't good enough, so I kept adding to it. It became more structurally sound that it was before, probably as structurally sound as it was ever going to get given the available resources I had. I felt a certain sense of accomplishment from that. That's probably the most recent moment that I can recall that I can safely call my best.