My uselesss, worthless babble

It's two am, at least, and I am wide awake but weary of the world. Why is it that beauty and love are so entwined? Like only people born a certain way are worthy. To be a beauty, and thus, a worthy human being, I would need extensive plastic surgery and to lose at least 80 lbs. I haven't gotten the money, and with my health problems, past and present, I'm not even sure I could lose all that weight. I can only do limited exercise, and from medications, bulimia, and old age, my metabolism is shot. Thus, my love life is doomed. I will always be alone, pretending to be fulfilled by friendships and reading and gardening, and all those other things pathetic old maids do. I will get desperate, and be horribly used and abused until I'm not even good for that.
I've never known love. My family is ashamed I exist. I am a worry and a bother. No one has ever been in love with me. I was always used for sex or money or whatever. Those things never last long. I have spent my youth as a disgraceful whore. I rarely went out with the same person twice. The one person I loved, couldn't get past the way I look. She looked ill every time she looked in my direction, as if she couldn't believe she linked herself to a monster. We see each other on rare occasions, but it can't last- she is slender and stunning, and I am embarrassed for her that we are connected in any way.  Sometimes I hate her, for being born perfect and not knowing suffering- but that's not her fault, no more than it is mine that I am hideous. I just wish I had died at birth, and never known the truth, that there is nothing worth living for. Our lives are spelled out from conception, and nothing we can do changes anything.