Mr. Fix-It

People are stupid.
That was simply the conclusion he had come to over the number of years since he first realized that he had a super-power. It wasn't a cool super-power like Superman had. He couldn't fly, no x-ray vision, and he was fairly certain he would die if someone shot him with any sort of projectile weapon. He really wasn't interested in actually finding out either. That whole one life to live thing seemed to resonate throughout him.
Mr. Fix-It was the name he gave to himself. Nobody ever really seemed interested in giving him a SuperName. Instead, they just came to him with their problems. "Help me," they called out. "Save me," they pleaded. His good nature wouldn't let him ignore genuine calls for help. Sometimes he really wished he didn't have a damn conscious.
He really didn't mind listening to other people's problems and helping them reach the logical conclusions that they would have eventually worked out on their own. He didn't mind being quiet and letting people reach logical conclusions on their own. Quite the contrary, he enjoyed helping people seeing clearly, learning how to think, how to analyze the situations that they found themselves in. He got a warm feeling knowing he helped someone become a productive member of society.
What he didn't like was what typically happened. People would beg him to listen to their plights, beg him for his advice, and then turn around and do exactly what they were going to do anyway. It was as if they purposely went out of their ways to do the opposite of what he was guiding them towards. And when things didn't work out the way they wanted, it was always filled with shouts of disdain and admonishments of his inability to help them. It was a never-ending vicious cycle of hate and resentment. He hated and resented these people. And they still came back for more. More advice, more problems. It never ended.
Mr. Fix-It.
The most ironic thing to him was that his life was probably no better than half of these people. Worse more than likely. He lived alone, eschewing the company of others, paranoid to the point that he trusted no one. He never let anyone close for fear that they would hurt him. And on top of being a paranoid social pariah, he was in love with a woman he could never be with. He never understood why these people thought he could solve their problems.
That was until the day he met Otis. Otis was an old black man. He came across Otis one day at the park . Otis was just sitting on a bench watching the squirrels gather nuts, passing time away. Mr. Fix-It was tired, he had been walking for a while thinking on this problem, the dilemma that he was facing. Taking his leave, he rested his bones beside Otis.
For a while, they sat there in companionable silence, Otis watching the squirrels, and Mr. Fix-It lost in thought. Clearing his throat a little, Otis spoke, "You're Mr. Fix-It, aren't you?"
"Oh great," he thought, "Here it comes, another problem. Great." Mr. Fix-It nodded slowly, preparing himself to listen to the man's question.
Otis continued, "You listen to people's troubles, right?" Again, Mr. Fix-It nodded. "But now, you gotta problem." Mr. Fix-It frowned, unsure of what to do. Otis kept right on. "You're problem is you don't understand why peoples want to tell you all their cares and worries. Right?"
Mr. Fix-It just stared at Otis in surprise. He was flabbergasted that this random old man had seen right to the heart of the problem.
Otis took his silence as agreement, still watching the squirrels chasing each other around, and proceeded on with what he had to say. "The reason they tell you their problems is because you listen. Because you care. The whole world, it's messed up. But here you are, quiet, calm, a rock in the storm. The things that bother them, they's the same that bothers you. But for some reason you gotta better gripe on things. Don't beat yourself up over it. Things have a way of working themselves out."
And with that, and not another word, Otis nodded, and stood. Bowing his head slightly, Otis walked away leaving Mr. Fix-It staring after him. The words still thundered in his ear. He wasn't sure if it was going to make his life any easier, but he knew it didn't matter anymore. You are what you are, things never change. You can only do what you can.