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Enter The Cure This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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   I think I may have found a cure for the next time I become a little upset or down. I am sure beyond a doubt that it will work. The only problem is, of course, the construction of my cure and the cost of the materials.

Before I make clear my cure to you, the reader, I feel I must first tell when I came up with the idea. This is necessary to prepare you for what at first you would have thought outrageous and ridiculous.

I was complaining to my friend about some mental ailment when I noticed a pattern in his responses.

" ... happened to me last night," I stated. "That happened to me too," the friend responded. "I am not sure how to deal with it," I stated.

"It hurt me a lot when it happened. I'm still dealing with the pain," the friend added.

"Really? It is pretty bad without ... around. Surely you will take that into consideration for the simple fact that it is an augmenting factor," I squinted as I said this. Would the friend hear me now?

"My feelings were awful. My mind is predisposed to fits of depression and the like. You, on the other hand, have the option of insanity. I do not have the choice but have to remain sane in hope of keeping everything in balance."

Now maybe this wasn't the best part of the conversation to quote, but I do know that somewhere around that time the idea popped into my head. It was brought on by the frustration of not knowing if my friend was even talking to me. The simple truth is: he wasn't. Not for a second did he notice my presence or react to my contributions in any way save as a guideline for what he wanted me to know about himself. Don't get me wrong though, I don't consider myself a saint or a wholly unselfish person. Quite possibly my depression is derived from not being saint-like in the least way. I realize that. I realize that and yet do not choose to change it because I have found my cure. Maybe the cure is also an answer to my laziness, but I shrug anyway. I have given up on trying to change people, and all I want now is to disappear.

Enter the cure: an assemblage of twenty-seven mirrors, eighty rolls of stainless steel wire, and about ten buckets of plaster to hold the entire contraption together. I am also using a countless number of newspapers with the plaster. Together, with the wire, this will give my shape accordingly. I am constructing a suit of mirrors. The plans are still being revised. One major problem seems to be the actual wearing of the suit. Shall I make a zipper and take it off occasionally? Or shall I make a permanent structure, sort of a shell to protect me from the world? I slightly favor the idea of a zipper, although it will take much more time to plan and create. A permanent suit of mirrors would be easier but if I really think about it, this permanent structure would be crossing the line forever. I could not go back; not that I really think there's anybody out there. It's just that what if I want to take a swim or travel on an airplane? Neither of those activities would be possible with my cumbersome suit of mirrors.

"Is it really worth it?" the reader is asking, I'm sure.

Yes. This cure of mine is going to finally allow me to blend in without any problem. I will no longer care about people's criticisms because they will be talking to themselves. They will look at me, see themselves, and be cautious in what they say. They will no longer say mundane things and waste my time.

Everything they do will finally be true to themselves. I will be able to trust people again and maybe they won't trust me, seeing as how I know everything about them, or they'll take this backwards and tell me everything.

But if I have one hope in life, one hope that negates all others and is in essence my soul, it is that all conversation will cease. This should come after anyone has had prolonged exposure to my suit of mirrors. I think I will smile and laugh when conversation ceases, and if I do have a zipper I will take off my suit.

I will take off my suit, and yet, still, there won't be any talking. They will realize that my suit, an elaborate ball of tinfoil, was worthless. They will then see that the suit was merely covering a much larger and much more true mirror.

This is my cure. Thank you for reading. 1


This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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