The speaker begins by describing herself in short, plain statements: she's fragile, she barely talks, and she feels nobody wants to figure her out. The hesitation in "No; not at all even" suggests she's correcting herself, making her silence sound even more complete than she first admitted.
Then the poem turns toward what she longs for, and it's wonderfully ordinary. She doesn't ask for anything grand, just a boyfriend, someone to curl up with under the covers, watching stupid movies and kissing. The warmth of that picture makes the ending hit harder. After "But wait," she stops herself and decides she doesn't deserve any of it. The mood moves from lonely to tender to quietly heartbreaking. The abrupt last line, with no explanation, makes the self-doubt feel automatic, as if she has talked herself out of hope many times before.