SSI and suicide to simply say it

I'm on the brink of applying or more appropriately begging the government to pay me to be jobless.  Not unemployment. Disability.  Why?  Because I'm finding myself at a crossroads:  Continue on this perilous path of intermittent therapy and non-stop pharmaceutical binge in hopes to build a dam to plug up the river of psychosis threatening to overtake my mind and drown me and possibly lead me to either commit a horrendous act on the public and then myself or perhaps cut my own life down to prevent said act; or quit work and take out mountains of loans to support myself while I go to school.

Why can't I have the option of going to school to better myself and take a break from work because of mental health reasons?  I'm scared that people who know me personally and even those who don't know me will look at my case and think 'you don't need disability, look how articulate you are! You were able to work in Australia just fine full-time, what's the problem now?'

The problem now is that I don't have my ex anymore.  There is no way I could have handled having a full-time job safely without her by my side taking care of me during my relapses and bouts of severe depression or psychosis.  She dealt with me unable to cook, unable to move, unable to leave the house, unable to leave the bedroom.  She dealt with my paranoia, my suicidal ideation, my suicide attempts, my hallucinations, and my detachment of reality.  No one knows of this shit because I hid it very well.  If I was off my rocker and couldn't function a simple shaky phone call to work "sorry I'm sick -fake cough-" would ensue.  If I was invited to a party? 'Oh sorry mate, it was LAST NIGHT? I thought it was NEXT week.. hahahaha'.  But in reality?  I knew (or didn't know if I was so fucked in the head) that the party was that night but I couldn't get out the door to go either because I was paralyzed with anxiety, depression, or lost in a world of derealization and depersonalization.

But I'm coming forth.  Right now.  To admit to my mental health afflictions.  And to voice my concern about what is about to happen and how I view this situation going down.

Basically one of two things will happen -- I could qualify for disability and no longer have to work while I go to school so I can focus on therapy so that this cycle can stop being so fucking severe and seemingly random.  Or I could be rejected and try to continue going to work and probably eventually successfully kill myself or others or both.... or I could be rejected and quit work and take on a mountain of debt that I will never be able to pay.

Do we really live in a world where society expects those with disabilities to 'pull themselves up by their boot straps' and 'get over it' and get a job?  The kind of jobs I can get that would accomodate for my challenges don't pay well at all.  Why should I be sentenced to a life of poverty?  I'm a hard fucking worker! And I'm smart as all get out. I just worked almost 22 hours in the last 30 hours and the day before that I pulled a 27 hour day and worked over 20 hours that day too. Don't tell me I'm lazy for wanting to be on disability.  Unless you have PTSD, depression, anxiety, and/or schizophreniform (possibly schizoaffective disorder) then you really don't know what it is like to be me.

Try working while your head goes fuzzy and your hands aren't your hands anymore.  You're a puppet. You know you're a puppet.  You're a mass of genetic pudding that was given many numbers and names and right now, as the government transmits your actions to your brain, you watch yourself perform your work duties, because right in that instance you aren't you and you're not even sure there was ever a you to think you were a you, an individual. No, right now, as you flip folded clothes and hunt for the tag to scan the sku, you're just like that piece of nondescript clothing -- a piece of clothing that on the outside, if viewed not at the store stacked with the others, but on the body of another government trained drone, it appears to be unique and special!  But you see the truth, right now, in a cramped back room in a box retail store that dots across America part of the capitalistic machine turning everyone into zombies and sucking the lifeforce out of this planet by overconsuming all the resources from trees to water to air to human souls.  The truth is simply this:

The clothing outside the store seems special and unique yet it isn't.  It was manufactured and then given a name (polo) and then a number (the sku) and dumped in a truck and shipped out to a store where you are counting it right now.  Counting something that is like you.  You seem special and unique, but you aren't.  You were manufactured out of lust like the majority of every single fucking human being on this planet.  And then given a name (Steve) and then a number, so many numbers, (social security number, employee number, driver's license number, etc).

What have we become? What have I become? Was there an I ever?

And so, I stood there, watching my puppet self perform these tasks on literally no sleep.  I calculated in my head and figured out that I was awake for 26 hours and counting.  I went from shift to shift to shift in the last two days.  No time for rest.  No time to feel real.  Maybe I was never real.

Once the shift was done I tried to get home.  And failed. Miserably.

Sitting on a log felt good.  Laying in a dandelion field felt better.  And then my roommate came and got me and took me home.

I still don't feel real.

But I keep telling myself to just take my medicine and go to therapy.  How much longer do I need to go to therapy for a sickness with no cure? The only way to get me back is to take back my life, but the government owns it.  I never had a life.