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'The decrease in the Covid supplement is a sentence to poverty, for me and many others'

<span>Photograph: Dan Peled/AAP</span>
Photograph: Dan Peled/AAP

‘If I needed anything, I could just buy it’

When the supplement was announced, two things happened immediately. All my worries and concerns about bills and expenses dissipated, and I thought of all the things I could do with the money. I didn’t decide to have a piss-up with mates, or blow the money on pokies (though I express my right to make frivolous bets on sporting events as an Australian.)

I sat at my desk the day after the announcement and wrote down all of the things I didn’t have, the things I needed, and the things that need replacing.

The first thought: I can finally replace this sunken single mattress, and buy a bedframe too. Finally, nearing 26, and for the first time in my adult life, I got a double mattress atop an actual bedframe, not the carpet in my room. I bought new bedding. Decent quality, from the store. Everything was on sale, of course – this six month supplement isn’t going to undo intergenerational penny-pinching.

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I bought a sorely-needed oil heater. I bought some new clothing (again, always shopping on sale) and as the weeks progressed, if I needed anything, I could just buy it. No second guesses. No anxiety. And this time, I wouldn’t have to skip meals to justify the purchases!

With the supplement reduction coming soon, I just received my final payment with the full supplement – $1,181 for the fortnight. I’m now really thinking about the future, and the possibility that we return to an old system that clearly wasn’t working: welfare payments that keep us entrenched in poverty; a jobactive system that cannot find or create jobs; and the laughable system of “mutual obligations”. I think about how I and so many other Australians have been given a break from the harsh reality of poverty and welfare policing for a few months. And I think about how hundreds of thousands may have to encounter this shambolic system for the first time, very soon. – Aidan, 25, Adelaide

‘I feel sick trying to figure out how I will maintain my life’

The $300 cut to the Covid supplement is state-sanctioned violence. People are sentenced to lifetimes in poverty, forced to endure avoidable suffering, have their human rights degraded and are blamed for the circumstances they are pushed into because this government is inept. People cannot rely on their own government to supply their most basic of human rights, which we are seeing firsthand as the government abandons its citizens in their height of need.

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There is no reason why the government should be lowering payments while people like myself are suffering amid mass job losses, a lack of access to proper healthcare, both physical and mental, and a high risk of housing insecurity. If the payment goes down, I cannot afford to rent a room in a share house, I cannot afford to access healthcare for my arthritis, I will barely be able to pay my bills. I feel sick to my stomach trying to figure out how I will maintain my life, while I am forced to continue my degree online, accrue a student debt, maintain my mental health and somehow survive.

The decrease in the supplement is a sentence to poverty, for me and many others. If coronavirus has shown us anything it is that financial security is a necessity which can be lost in a split second.

Financial protection is a basic right that must be secured. Having budgetary “constraints” is not an excuse to let people in Australia die of poverty. – Freya, 22, Melbourne

‘That does wonders for your peace of mind’

The thing about being poor is that it’s expensive. If I can’t afford to spend a decent amount of money on good shoes, I have to buy cheaper ones over and over again when they wear out. If I can’t afford to see a dentist for a minor issue, I’ll have to find a way to deal with a much bigger bill when it becomes unbearable. That’s been life for me on youth allowance, before the coronavirus supplement: unable to invest in even small things that would make my life better. In the past few months, I have been able to do that. My diet has improved, along with my mental health and overall quality of life. I haven’t been anxious about choosing between rent and food. That does wonders for your peace of mind.

Related: 'It will change my life entirely': young people on getting the $550 coronavirus supplement

With the supplement being cut, I’m facing that reality again. I’ve been able to save a little – which was literally impossible for me previously – but that won’t last long. I’m in the process of seeing a psychiatrist to address a mental health issue; I’m not sure how many appointments I’ll be able to afford, or how long it’ll be practical for me to be on medication if I need it. Planning for the cut has made me extremely anxious. After 31 December, if the government goes through with its plan to remove the supplement entirely, it’ll get worse. I haven’t been able to see my girlfriend since the first lockdown began, and previously I said I might take her out for dinner when all this is over. Now I’m not sure I’ll be able to. – Jess, 21 Melbourne

‘People are not unemployed because of their own laziness’

A raised rate allowed me, for the first time ever, to have dignity and pride. Clean, first-hand clothes from local shops. A full box of medication, and savings in my bank. Fresh food is finally on my plate. With the increased rate, I dabbled in photography and plant cultivation.

Because of the increased rate, I could help write a computer game, “Game of Thrones: Tale of Crows”. I am working with a Queensland startup on augmented reality technology. Both of these things have helped relieve Covid pressure on people around the world.

But some pencil-pusher deems that I am “not contributing to society.” Well, sorry for not picking fruit for slave wages.

Now that long-time welfare recipients have tasted economic freedom, new recipients understand the trauma of a watered-down system, and there is a broad consensus that people are not unemployed because of their own laziness … your move, Canberra. – Jade, 24, Melbourne