Naruto was born both a hero and a burden. His life was decided by people older but no wiser than he. His path was set out before him far before he could even walk. He was treated like dirt by the villagers without ever knowing why. It was because he was a constant reminder to the village of a time of death and horror. They couldn't look at him and see him; they could only see the Nine Tails container. He thought later on in his life that he couldn't hold it against them. They had lived their lives in constant fear while the Fox had run rampant. Dozens of people had died everyday, slaughtered by the very thing he held inside him. Having him around, it made the villagers relive that fear every day, always wondering when the Kyuubi would take over Naruto and rampage Konoha again.
When he was younger though, it was a different story. He hadn't known anything back then besides the fact that he was all alone and scared. He had no family, no friends. Everybody tried to steer clear of him, and when they couldn't they stared at him with hate and fear in their eyes, pointing a silent finger of accusation at him that told him that nobody wanted him around. He grew up thinking that everybody hated him. But why wouldn't they, when he had hated himself?