WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO???  WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO???

I hear this question repeatedly and resounds in my daily thoughts, first starting as a nagging whisper and gradually increasing to an incoherent head-bashing scream.  Paper bills are flung on my desk with an exasperated gasp with dollar signs and red ink admonishing the account owner.  Tears of hopelessness stream down swollen tired cheeks with red-stained eyes searching for the secret to survival within mine. And the question.."What am I supposed to do?" is always close behind after reciting minimal income incomparable to hours worked, imaginary affordable housing, and a vicious cycle of survival.  There has to be a better answer than, "I don't know."  There HAS to be.