I has angst.
For various reasons I am far too lazy to type out on my phone, I am experiencing a great deal of angst. Normally I would be all mysterious and poetic and probably bust out some kind of obscure pop culture reference, but seriously? Fuck and shit and piss and maybe even fuck ass cunt fart nipple shit whore.
I feel really, really unattractive. Actually, it’s a little more than that – I feel pointless. Like, why bother. Dressing up, wearing make up, trying to look cute – what’s the point? It’s just me under there, after all, and no one cares.
So, yeah. Angst. Anyone want to have a pity party? I’ll be the one in the unwashed sweats.
Wait, I don’t own sweats. I need to go buy some sweats. Ugly ones, to match how I feel.
delicious juice dot com 
I care. *hugs* FWIW, I don’t think you’re pointless. :-)
I care, and I don’t think you’re pointless at all.
You are not unattractive or pointless. I only know you through the internet, but I’m pretty confident that you’re a pretty awesome, hilarious person.
You are really pretty and pointy and stuff. You drive the Rolls Royce of scooters. You’re the queen of bubbles, giggles and gratuitous expletives. If you really are depressed, you’re smart enough to know that the way you’re feeling is as much physical as mental or emotional and there’s a chance it’s mainly physical. Go see your doctor, give him a chance.
If somebody bummed you out, remember, nobody can take more power from you than you’re willing to give up.
If someone has subjected you to a negative opinion pull a Garfield, say to yourself “and this affects me how?”
Seriously. You are loved by folks who’ve never met you; people who love you for who you are; people who feel elated when you’re happy, proud when you succeed, unhappy when you’re hurting.
Having to go all the way to Texas to collect it is the down-side I guess but there’s a hug here any time you need it.