Any other girl

Sometimes when I look at you or even talk to you, I can't help but wonder how was it ever possible for me to ever fall in love with you. You have no idea of this, of course, but it doesn't make it any less true. I remember everything I used to like about you - your vivid intelligence, your fierce detachment from the irrelevant, your unyielding determination towards greatness, your untamed, unlikely beauty. To be honest, you still possess all that, but those features were corrupted and became into a shadow of what they once were. Your vivid intelligence switched targets somehow, and the good conversations of the past gave way to boredom You've embraced futility with all your heart, that matched with a strong contempt for the things of no importance to you. Your determination, perhaps tired of aspiring to the impossible, switched to the easy and always attainable mediocrity. And you've learned from others how to tame your beauty, and as you were always a good learner, you've just became like any other girl. And yet, for a very small part of me, still alive, you'll never be just like any other girl.