Why

I've been chosen last my entire life,
From duck, duck, goose,
To basketball,
To being loved.
All the people I have given my heart to are always faced with a choice,
I prayed they'd never make,
Me or her.
It was always her,
Leaving me in the rain with nothing left to say and a hole burning through my heart.
What is it that is so wrong with me?
I know I'm not tall, my hair not that long,
My skin is not porcelain,
My cheeks are not a flushed red,
And I am certainly not thin.
The others and I have similar tastes in music and shows,
We could have been twins in that way,
But what was so wrong with me?
It's a desperate plea I ask everytime I see myself in the mirror,
Is it just because I was the last to enter their lives,
And therefore first to leave?
Or was everyone I loved just playing a game?
I need to know,
What is so wrong with me?