A/N: Back again with a project that will be updated on a sporadic basis as things come to mind. If you ever wanted to read Sylar's diary, here ya' go!

Significant Others

Dear Diary:

It really isn't my habit to wallow in the mire of my own self-pity the way that some do almost as a matter of honor. Not to name names, but people like Peter Petrelli come to mind. For a guy who was born gagging on a silver spoon, he sure seems to feel as though he had a hard life. So his dad wasn't Mr. Cleaver, big deal. Given what a thorn in his side he was, you'd think he would have been grateful when I casually flung the fatal bullet at Arthur's forehead to finish him, but apparently not. Being moody isn't Peter's only problem, being indecisive is as well. To hate someone and not want them to suffer is completely illogical to me, but whatever. Lesson learned: don't do Peter any favors because even he doesn't know what he wants.

But that's kind of been the story of my life. Falling on my face, bleeding, figuring out why I fell in the first place, and picking myself up to hopefully avoid doing that again- but knowing I will and further knowing that the real problem was not my own doing, but usually being shoved down by another person in the first place. I'm convinced that if I could live on an island all by myself I would be perfectly fine and content, because it's when you have to deal with others that things get out of hand and you are left trying desperately to hang on and make sense of their hang-ups and actions like riding a bucking bronco. Trying to figure out the secret motivations and intentions of others at times feels like whiplash, and call me paranoid if you like, but I know from experience that everyone has an agenda. My inherent mistrust of everyone down to the Tooth Fairy is well founded, but I have to tell you that it is tiring, and although it doesn't look it, I'm not getting any younger.

Maybe it's midlife crisis, or the fact that I have variously awoken in pools of my own blood, face down in charred ashes, or scoured to the bone by being sandblasted like taking paint off an old car, but I have come to realize that other people suck. Seriously. I get that people don't like me either and that's fine. I get that a guy like me can ruffle feathers, rock the boat, and generally go against the predictable grain of society, but even so there comes a time when my talents can be useful and despite what anyone thinks, I can be convinced to use them for objectives other than purely selfish gain. The problem is, every time I have tried to cooperate and do for the greater good, I have tasted the bitter poison of betrayal. Every. Time.

See, what people don't understand about me is that I really do want to feel connected, to be something more, to affect the world and use my abilities for those who mean the most to me. It's all I ever wanted, even from the beginning. Believe it or not, I don't want people to fear me. No, really, I don't. I want them to respect me. I want the other heroes in all their righteous indignation to realize that I am just as powerful and trustworthy as they are. Well, modesty aside, I am in all actuality more powerful, but one shouldn't squabble over semantics when they are trying to build bridges. I have made an effort to show them that I can change, but so far it hasn't really worked out for me and I'm starting to get a little discouraged by it to be honest.

I am not a fool. I know that they can't be expected to see the light and simply forget all that I have done. I know that at least part of their mental block was built by my own hands, but what they fail to realize is that they have done just as much, if not worse, to me and yet I can at least try to suspend my own reticence even when I know that they are just using me. I won't lie and tell you it was easy for me to play an obedient dog as Bennet's Company partner. You can't imagine how difficult it was for me to casually lean against the car while he plotted by death within earshot because I knew that of any of them, he actually stood a good chance at pulling it off. I won't even discuss how painful having the prospect of belonging being ripped away from me on so many occasions was. Angela really had me believing that I was special, that she cared for me, that I mattered. Same for Elle. She made me feel whole and content like I never felt before, both when I first met her and while we lost our powers in the eclipse. I really wanted to believe in a future where we could be happy together, where I had someone who loved me wholly and unconditionally, but deep down I would have to question whether or not I even deserve such a thing. It just seems fitting that I live out the rest of eternity alone, don't ask me why.

I tried to patch things up with Claire, but so far she's not having any of it and I guess I can't blame her. If I put myself in her shoes, I would be a little miffed as well and at least just a little skeptical of the idea that the man who tried to kill me now wanted to be my friend, but she doesn't get it. I didn't want to kill her, I never did. Technically, I don't want to kill anyone, but it's just an unfortunate side effect of my method of power acquisition. People don't survive the shock of having their brain exposed and probed like she did, but that's not my fault. What she doesn't understand is that I'm no longer a threat to her, I have what I want and that's it. I have no desire to terrorize her, to make her afraid of her own shadow, or to make her feel as though she always has to look over her shoulder because I know what that feels like and it's a miserable existence. She probably will never come to understand the ways in which our lives run parallel, but we are more alike than she would ever admit. Perhaps in time she will come around, but for the meantime she's more comfortable with seeing me as a monster, a soulless demon sent to plague her and all of mankind. Bad as that is, at least she isn't ignoring me the way everyone else used to before I came to be what I am. Infamy is only slightly better than invisibility.

But be all that as it may, I am left with a sense that no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I work, or how far I bend over backwards to try and make them see my value as a human and an ally, I am not finding much success and I am lonely and tired of the fight. I'm starting to think that it's all a fool's errand to make people love you. They don't, and I'm starting to suspect that they never will. The question is: where do I go from here? I know who I am and what I have to offer even if no one else can see it, but how much longer am I willing to play the game before I give up and walk away? I'm growing a little tired of being unappreciated and unnoticed for my positive accomplishments while people like Peter almost blow up the city in a blinding nuclear fury and get a free pass. Everyone falls short and makes a few mistakes, it's a part of life and yet I can't seem to overcome the perception that I wanted things to be as they are. The balance of me is voting to just walk away and forget everyone because I will never find the acceptance I need and deserve, and yet a very small part of me so badly wants it because I know that if given half a chance I can prove myself and just maybe take my first step on the road to redemption.

So long as I live in a world with other people, my own personal progress will be dependent on their action or inaction and it is supremely frustrating. I don't want Claire to despise me, or HRG to dream of ways to kill me at night, or Peter to feel sorry or superior to me depending on his shifting mood, but I can't control how they perceive me and I can't completely turn away no matter how much I may want to. Life would be so much easier if I lived alone on an island…