infect me

"Poor guy..."
"He doesn't need this right now. Nobody needs it. She can take her worthless shit and shove it back down her throat."

Maybe I was wrong to trust others with my feelings. Perhaps sympathy and empathy do not exist, at least not for someone like me.
Who am I?
Apparently I am the psycho bitch, an unstable lunatic with the startling capacity to fly into a rage at the drop of a hat. I am passive aggressive, a real jerk as some say. I roll my eyes and glare in a way that is "so middle school". I'm overdramatic to the point of blasphemy, and nobody in their right mind should believe a word of my outrageous claims. I'm worthless. I am shit. He doesn't need me, she said. Nobody needs me.

This is what you think every time I run to you with my problems. You scoff and stare with vacant eyes because you think this is just another one of my crazy rants, that I'm too full of myself, too full of hate. I am hate itself. You're so thoroughly convinced of my insignificance that you don't hear the pain in my voice, see the panicked frustration in my eyes.
Why won't anyone listen? Why won't anyone help? Why do they all refuse to see the world through my lens for just a second---just one second is all I ask!
Why doesn't anyone care?

I wish it were as you say, just my pitiful ploy for attention. Perhaps then everything would be easier to stomach.
But how can I explain the countless times I've sobbed in the secrecy of my room, hiding because even my own parents have rejected me?
Sometimes I think---I wish---I had a disease, an evil cancer in my brain that is the root of my corrupted state of mind. I'm convinced there must be something wrong with me; after all, there must be a reason why nobody wants me. Maybe if I were normal, happier...always smiling, flouncing around on my tiptoes. Because that's the best thing for a girl to be in this world...a beautiful fool.