Why Do I Bother?

As I stand in the corner,
once again,
I think about my whole life,
each party, and dance,
that I have been invited to,
just to be ignore and made fun of,
I don’t know why go through with this,
the spit,
and metal water bottles,
to the head are miserable,
the stains on my clothes,
because of them,
is cruel,
getting asked out,
just to be rejected,
being called beautiful,
just to get called ugly,
seconds later,
I don’t know why I try,
or even bother,
it’s just another issue waiting to happen,
they laugh,
and I cringe,
they glare,
I shrink back,
into my little turtle shell,
why do I even bother,
letting them push me down,
just so they can get higher,
Getting back up again,
is just like trying to be happy,
it is easier,
to be alone,
and even easier,
to just cry,
and think about,
the future,
of what it will be like,
especially the slice to the throat,
or the bullet to my brain,
or my heart being crushed again...
why do I even bother?