The Nation of the Glorious Turnip

People tell him secrets. Even people he barely knows come to him with their secrets. He always listens, he always hears what they tell him, he cannot forget. He cannot tell. There is one thing he has always wondered; why? Why do people come to him with their secrets, their problems, their issues and questions? He doesn’t have all the answers. But sometimes people need a listener, someone who is there, but why him? They seek him out even if he is not there.

He looks in the mirror; he would not trust himself with his secrets, the face of a madman. But perhaps his vision is skewed by what he knows to be true. The secrets feed him, sustain him. He has power over those that share with him their secrets, yet he would never use this power, he cannot. In that, there is his total dedication to secrecy. But people cannot know this. People simple can’t feel this. And yet they share with him their secrets, come to him with their questions and hope for answers. Answers he doesn’t always have. Why do people trust him?