A few years ago my mother told me that anyone who says they're happy is lying. And it occurs to me that this is a bit fucked up.
On the other hand, I was just crying over the fact that I de facto can't major in anthropology, and that even if I managed to survive my
undergraduatecy this would mean saying goodbye to my graduate school aspirations, which were sometimes all that kept me going, and the only
reason i was able to stop was telling myself that so few people are able to study something they enjoy that it's really spoiled of me to
expect or want that.