I want to get locked in an airtight school and fix her with hope. She would try anything and everything to make me feel despair, but I would just laugh it off, because as long as I'm helping her, no despair is strong enough to enter my heart. I'd show her that no matter what she has done, I'd always forgive her. I'd make her food and clean her secret lair, and drag her out to bed if she stays up late. When the nights get so cold that we have no choice but to cuddle together at night for warmth, I'd feel her breath going from shallow to deep as her form relaxes and she falls asleep in my arms. I'd feel her cling to me in the night when she wakes up from a despair nightmare and feel her sob into my chest, first seeds of hope sprouting in her traumatized mind. I'd softly kiss her hair and tell her everything will be okay. I'd take care of her when she gets sick, read all the books from the library and hold her hand so that she can fall asleep. I'd make shitty homemade pizza for her and stay up late with her watching dumb movies, and feel her cuddle up to me when she can't stay awake anymore. I'd teach her retarded drinking games and show her how to play pool in the rec room.
One night, she silently sneaks over to the kitchen. A shining sliver of a blade extends from her clenched fist when she walks into my room. But her hand stops, centimeters away from my chest, and begins to shake violently. Something is wrong. One by one, her trembling fingers let go of the hilt, and with a soft thud, the knife falls onto the carpet. She throws herself on me and buries her face right where the knife should have gone, Clutching at the fabric of my clothes. Her whole body shakes feverishly and I scoop her body into my arms and tell her that everything will be okay, just like usual. Her silent sobbing turns to wailing that echoes out into the dimly lit corridors beyond the door.
She would finally be cured of despair. Because the only thing she can't analyze is love