feeling like Ishmael here:
Whenever I find myself growing grim about the mouth; whenever it is a damp, drizzly November in my soul; whenever I find myself involuntarily pausing before coffin warehouses, and bringing up the rear of every funeral I meet; and especially whenever my hypos get such an upper hand of me, that it requires a strong moral principle to prevent me from deliberately stepping into the street, and methodically knocking people’s hats off
Go out and hug everyone you meet, oh they will resist your efforts, but you just hug them tighter.
One way or another your problem will be solved, get hugged back or a hard kick to the nutz, both outcomes will make you feel differently.