I used to be homeless when I was 22. It feels like absolute hell. It's just a very slow death sentence and I was lucky that I go out of it.
My saving grace was that I got my disability approved for my mental illnesses so I have money now.
It's very hard for me to continue to get my medications and go to appointments so I fear that I won't be able to keep it forever. And if that's the case it's all the more reason for me to die because I can't, and don't want to be a part of the rat race.