The beautiful

Your beauty is a curse. It has taken away the depth you potentially had.
Your depth now consists of relying on dressing in an interesting way and looking good. Clothes don't make you an interesting person.
I know people change, but I will still be nostalgic for the person you used to be. The girl who was not vain. The girl who took people's feelings in to consideration. She, who didn't act like everyone else; stealing other people's thoughts, mannerisms, humour and stupidity.
I prefer who you were but I have taught myself to love who you are now. But everyone does. Everyone loves you but nobody really knows you. I know you because I know who you were and that's all that everyone consists of; who they were and who they want to be.
Your beauty has cursed you; people love your shell: your face, your hair, your clothes, your smile. They compliment and they flatter, and you deflect in a typical fashion. You complain because you don't see the beauty that they see.
I wish that it didn't matter to you. I wish that other people mattered to you more.