dis/un/re-placed

 I'm always the one who comes in after all places were given or taken, and whenever I get to pick first, there's always a reason to give it back or to someone else.

Am I too soon? too late? Why me?

I'm the one being pushed to one side and then to the other, as if I was the ball in a soccer match. Of course, with the difference that no one is pursuing to have me, but just indifferent if I'm around. Perhaps like that pebble you suddenly stumble to on your way somewhere, and you start kicking and playing with it, but then you kick it too hard and you can't stop, go back, o change paths, so you leave it there, waiting for the next person so accidentally kick in. 

I'm like that decor gift someone gave you for your home, that doesn't match at all with the style. You try to keep it, to look for a place for it, but eventually give up and throw it away. 

I was never meant to be here, there, anywhere.  But at the same time I'm not free. Why? 

As my mom usually reminds me: it's all my fault and my responsibility –I could be happy if I wanted to, but I like being depressed.

Why, oh why, did she keep me then, if I was never going to have a place of my own?