Miserable shit me

I really do feel like a miserable piece of shit.
Timmy started that godawfull pushy squeaking again like he does every meal time. We have been fighting since I moved back into the house and took over feeding.  He sees me start and wants to run down and push on the back of my legs squeaking and whining to hurry up. For ten years Dan's been allowing this. But it's infuriating to the extreme. I've tried so many approaches including sitting there next to him doing nothing every time he starts up.  Nothing works and I'm so agitated I get red fury. This morning I just rounded on him shouting, grabbed him by his skin, flipped him upside and shouted at him. Terrorized him. The rest of the morning he's been acting proper scared and i've just wanted to throw him through a window. 
So of course I hate myself.
I'm spending the morning wondering how I'm going to deal when the food runs out.  Do I get a marker and scribble "euthanize me" on  a tee and go spend sunny days spinning wool on the city hall steps explaining to people that I cannot afford to eat or live so I want to die?  
I feel trapped and threatened and helpless.  I can't sleep, can't stop crying, can't focus, can't regulate my emotions and I have no where to turn.  Therapy?  For what? Drugs. worse drugs than the one I am not supposed to use. I can have all the pharms I get prescribed, free.  But not food?
it's so fucked up.
I'm so despairing of this cruel world that would let it's disabled citizens suffer. 
You're all fuckers. May as well have world war three, I'm feeling pretty nihilist.  lots of virtue signaling, no actual virtue left.

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