“Mr Fix It”

They call me reliable.

Everybody comes to me when they need something. Because I’m always there. Always helping. Reliable.

Sometimes I think they depend on me. But they don’t. I’m more of a help desk. An individual that’s there to help people with their issues.

I’m not in the social circle. I’m the loner. The “outcast”. The “quiet” one.

My problems are all compressed internally. And I’m slowly running out of memory….

Reliability translates into responsibility but I don’t want that. I don’t want the spotlight. I like it where its quiet. Not being in charge. It’s my personality.

“Mr Fix It” doesn’t want to open himself up and become a target because he fears his weaknesses will show. Vulnerability.

But they keep coming. Asking for help. Making me responsible.

And I keep helping. Reluctantly holding the responsibility role. I hate it. But I can’t stop it.

I need space.

Anxiety attacks might surface.

I need space.


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