panic day

on the one hand, seeing funds drop in my account was a relief, I got my disbursment. But then I realized it was less than a thousand dollars for the whole month. That won't even cover fixed expenses for housing and utilities.  Nothing for internet, debt payments, odds and ends or, gasp, food or fuel or anything like that.  But hey, who needs that? 
So I'm freaking out wondering how long this lasts? What do they expect me to do?  I wrote the intake worker but I know it's just whining.  I just can't let her not know what they're doing to me.
I'm freaking out wondering how long till I am thrown out on the street and can I stop it? Can I at least escape experiencing it somehow? It's cold enough to kill me if I can find the will power to lay down in the snow.
But that's not fair to the dogs, so I can't do that to them. I just don't want to deal with all the nasty people who are going to play in my metaphoric blood and macrame with my metaphoric guts while I lay there helpless feeling it.  They'll call me names and give me nasty looks and mistreat me and dis my stuff and waste it all and it'll all get trampled and destroyed and I will have no tools or resources and I picture myself laying on a city street with shit pouring out of my ostomy filling my filthy pants, people  kicking me because I stink, too starved and delerious to talk to anyone anymore.
They call this something.  Doom scrolling, no, that's facebook use. when you panic and see a whole terrible story laid out like the path in front of you.  Catastrophizing.  I know it's not certain, but it's too possible for me!  It's hard enough to control when it's not feasible.
I just feel so worthless.  Why am I so horrible and unloveable and hated?  What did I do?
It would be less cruel to euthanize me.  it really would.

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