All my problems are petty, mental health is sneezed at, and I

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All my problems are petty, mental health is sneezed at, and I do not matter. The problems I've faced throughout my life would have served to make other people stronger individuals, but not me. I have become fragile and broken, pathetic and desperate for affection--yet I'm terrified of opening up to anyone and letting people know how I suffer inside my head. My problems are petty. The only problem is that I'm a weak person, I know I'm weak, and so I wish I had support. Look at this pathetic fucko, crying himself to sleep wishing he was capable of making a friend. It's too late for that now, you piece of shit. There will be no one in my life to accept me as the broken trash I am, no one to help me put my pieces back together. It's petty, it's all so petty, it torments me so much, but it's so fucking petty. Besides, I don't think I have a good idea what a friend is because what I desire sounds extremely selfish. Why would anyone take on the problems of someone else when they have their own. It's so hard to accept that I will never experience a friendship and trust that I try, I try every night, I tell myself that there is no one, and there will never be no one, that cares about me. But I refuse it, I cry and I refuse it, sobbing "no, no, no, no, no, no..." until I can't cry anymore. I just need a little push. Please.