They always tell me everything. Their innermost secrets. Usually I smile, listen, nod, offer the occasional ugh, eww, ahh, and wow.

I’m not sure when this all started, but most everyone that I know or associate with instantly feels comfortable enough to reveal their darkness to me.

I would never divulge these secrets except perhaps in a fictional ficlet. Call it amatuer courtesy, but I still bear the burden of knowing.

I guess some would say it’s a blessing, but after a while it gets depressing. I mean, I know everything about everyone of my friends and co-workers. They know nothing about me. Not the real stuff anyway. The down and dirty me. Sometimes I feel fake, but the feeling fades fast. I wash my hands and continue eating my lunch.

So I’m confessing to you my fellow ficlet friends, yet not really revealing anything about myself quite yet. This is my sanctuary. This is my holy place. This is my secret hideout where I can be me when I’m good and ready.

Maybe tomorrow. Maybe not. Thanks for listening.