Not that happy sometimes

I came home, poured myself a glass of port, and switched Heather on.
half an hour later, I poured myself a second glass and thought, "God I love my life."
But I'm thinking, I don't really.

It's like what Emily said in Jodi Picoult's The Pact.
"I know what I want, I just don't know how to get from here to there."

I don't have direct and easy paths. Or I do, often at a price higher than a local.
Whether in Singapore or America or even my own bloody country.

I used to think that I've got a pretty straight path leading to my five year goal.
Turns out, I don't.
It's easy to talk about University and where you want to go. It's easy to talk about the things you'll do and the things you'll do afterward. But if you face up to reality, it doesn't take two guesses to figure that sometimes, you might be shivering in a blacked-out apartment in the dead of winter. It's awful, doing all this financial planning. And I honestly feel like dropping dead.

Last year, I'd stare at these costs and pictures. Figure I had the sums worked up in my head or little blue notebooks. Back then, this was my reason to keep going. Because you know, Distance Learning can be pretty damn boring. The book doesn't have odd teeth or accents to laugh at. And you don't have classmates to talk to.
But right now, in the last year of this Associate's Degree, I'm thinking,
God, help me please.
I don't know how the fuck to do it.

And God knows, I am so fucking tired of thinking.