Head in the clouds

He likes to believe he has a purpose in this world. That he isn't just walking around the world waiting for the day he'll pass away, though maybe that'd be easier.

When his brother introduces him, his brother tells them he studied medicines. His mother gives it another spin, she tells them he works in a hospital. And when he introduces himself, people always expect him to tell them his job, but who is he to define what he is? And besides, shouldn't what he does be more important than what he is?

But if he'd have to define what he is, it isn't a nurse; it isn't someone who works in a hospital or someone who studied medicines. No, he's a helper. He helps people. He likes to think there are millions of other helpers around the world. Maybe one day he'll meet another helper. Someone just like him, maybe with a different haircut, different age, maybe even different personality, but ultimately someone just like him.

His mother calls him an optimist, a dreamer. His brother just says he should quit the drugs.

They never got it.

And sometimes he wished he didn't either.

How wonderful and amazing the gift is –yes, the gift of helping – it tends to disappoint him. Disappointing him because he can't find anyone who also has it. Disappointing him because the gift always has a way of getting before him. And at times it disappoints him because it isn't enough to help some, save some even.

And the wait. That's a downside too. It makes him wait, wait longer and longer and when he thinks he can stop waiting, he's once again stuck waiting. Sometimes he's waiting for someone who also has it, and at different times of someone who can free him of it.

But as much as he wants to stop being a helper, he can't. It doesn't work that way and he wouldn't want to anyway. Disappointment and waiting doesn't matter when he helps someone, save, even.

And it can be the dog he finds for the little boy or the wallet he returns to the old lady, he likes to believe it made a difference, an impact, and maybe it's a part of something he's been waiting for. Maybe his gift is a part of the role he's going to play somewhere along the way.

If his brother heard that he'd probably tell him he's got a hero-complex.

Not quite, not everyone can be a Superman. We can all be helpers, though.

Either way, Peter Petrelli likes to believe his Destiny is somewhere waiting for him to fulfil it.