My father used to say he was making me into steel, when I was 13 I read the superman comics and I remember coming to the realization that superman was the man of steel. I always thought that's what my father wanted me to be – superman. I never read another comic book again, to this day every time I see anything related to superman my stomach twists in knots that I'll never be able to un-tie or work through.

I didn't want to be superman then and I don't want to be superman now. I swear sometimes I think they all look at me and expect me to tear off my shirt and see a huge S on my chest.

If I had any doubts about my ability as the island's hero they tripled the second Boone's life slipped through my preverbal fingertips. He asked me to let him go and I almost didn't listen. I was so close to just disregarding what he wanted from me and cut off his leg. Deep inside I knew from the moment I saw his injuries that he wasn't going to make it. I think maybe I was hoping for another miracle, like with Sarah.

I'm not a man of faith, I never have been and I don't think I ever will be. My life has always been about hard facts and pain that you can't control. Maybe that's why I married Sarah, I just couldn't let go to the idea that maybe I could perform miracles. I guess that's infinitely stupid for someone who doesn't believe in the miracles but sometimes you bury something so deep you aren't even conscious of it anymore.

I wonder sometimes what would have happened to these people if I hadn't been on the plane. Would they be better off or would there just be someone else who they made their hero? I'd like to think Kate would be that for them, even if she doesn't realize it, she's much stronger than anyone knows. I try not to think about her too much, it's just a distraction and sometimes I shake with the weight of it. It reminds me of my father and his addiction, the reason I'm here in the first place.

What is it Locke's always saying about destiny?

I don't even know where I'm going anymore and I'm barely aware of Kate's footsteps behind me. We're searching for Locke and my focus isn't quite right. I've felt helpless before, in the last few months more than anything else, but right now I'm so out of my element that I can't even think straight.

Locke was responsible for Boone's death, I know it, I can feel it in my bones. Boone was murdered and I'm going to find John Locke if it's the last damn thing I do on this island. I can't fail this time, I won't fail.

A hatch, a fucking hatch is what all this is about? I'm not even sure I want to know why or what. I'm tired of false hope and fear. I'm tired of pain and loneliness and I'd love nothing more than to sit down and cease to move, cease to think about anything at all. For some reason I can't give up. Maybe it's because if I give up everyone will know, they'll see it. I've already given up on rescue, I'm not sure if everyone else has figured that out; except Kate. Kate knows I'm not expecting to be rescued; she could see it in my eyes when I decided to move to the caves.

I've never really been the type of guy who likes the spot light. I prefer to help out when people aren't looking, I don't like the attention, I don't like being the man of steel. Superman seems like a curse, a cross to bear in the wilderness.

I don't understand why they all look to me for answers, for help and hope. I'm just as clueless as everyone else. A reluctant hero; is that what they think of me? I don't feel like a hero, I never have. It's part of who I am. I know I've done things I regret, my father thinks I hate him; maybe I do, but I also miss him. I miss how he could take command and not let it become personal. I miss how he used to give me that knowing look whenever he could sense I was taking on too much.

Maybe that's why I'm so drawn to Kate; she seems to see beyond the hero everyone else makes me out to be. Sometimes I wish they'd listen to Sawyer when he says I'm not what they think I am. I wish they'd see I'm not the thing of legends or proverbs or lessons. I'm just a man trying to help people survive on this goddamn island.

We've been walking a while and I can't imagine we're anywhere we should be but my need to see Locke to demand he tell me everything that happened spurs me forward. We'll always make it back; at least that's what I tell myself.

We make it to a clearing and I'm taken back by the beauty of it. I know I haven't seen it before and I really start to wonder how long we've been walking- an hour, Two?

The suns already setting and I know it's dangerous to keep walking at night. There's no path, no real way to get back; not knowing all the dangers in this place never escapes my attention, sometimes I just pretend it's not there. Like all the secrets we have are lurking in the shadows to swallow us hole.

I still feel like Alice – falling down the rabbit hole into an abyss of the inexplicable. I am no superman, but I will find Boone's murderer.