i am a fixer…..from as far back as i can remember….i am the one people come to with their problems….their pain....i am the strong one…..the one who gets things done….i am the fixer. i’ve taken care of my parents…..my siblings……my children….friends……and with my job….victims of all race…creed….and situation…..but…..who fixes the fixer? people assume that my strong exterior goes all the way to the core of my being….wish they could be like me….but.....they see only the face i offer up to the world….when in reality…..it’s a daily battle to keep the fragile pieces that make up who i am from imploding ….with sound of a thousand fine crystal glasses.... breaking….. falling….. tinkling….. and glittery….. into a pile..... on the floor….leaving only an image.... like that burned into the memory of your eye from a searing light...... i’ve become a master at hiding the real me…….the most noble actor on this stage called life.....covering up the sound of the chains i carry…..and the quiet click of the door closing in my heart..... so……who fixes the fixer? i can soothe her each night with wine…and music…..i can make her rise each morning and force her to put on her mask and cape…… and send her out into the world to fight the evils of another day…..but I can’t fix her…..i can’t fix her……who fixes the fixer?
