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From Twitter 07-01-2010
Jul. 2nd, 2010 04:00 amTweets copied by twittinesis.com
Jul. 2nd, 2010
Day 3 - Letter to My Parents
Jul. 2nd, 2010 11:31 amCharacter: Sylar
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 385
Rating: PG for angst
Prompt: I grew up quick and I grew up mean,
My fist got hard and my wits got keen
A Boy Named Sue, by Johnny Cash for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
scifi_muses
Notes: Letter Blog entry - worked as a post on the Muses too.
To My Parents,
I’m writing this to all of you, my real parents, my adoptive parents, and to you, Angela, for making me want something so badly that it still hurts that you lied.
Samson, I don’t know if you’re alive or dead. Leaving you to fester in your own filth the way I did was one of the best choices I ever made in my life. You didn’t deserve the quick death I could have given you. You’re a disgusting sack of shit, and I wish to hell I didn’t carry your genetics. I can promise you this; I will never end up like you. I won’t die alone, miserable in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. When I die, everyone will know my name.
Virginia, I’m sorry you died. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I lost control trying to make you see that I was special, that I was someone. You didn’t want me to be Gabriel, and your death locked that part of me away for a long time. He’s slipped back into my mind now, giving me the insecurities, that fucking need for approval and companionship that Sylar was above. Hope you’re happy about that. I do miss you. You weren’t the worst mother on the planet, and you did love me. I loved you too. I still do.
Angela, you lying bitch. Thank you so much for dangling the Holy Grail in front of my nose, but I can’t blame you for reaching for it. That was my problem. You played the Gabriel card with me, and won the hand. You woke him up. You made me start to care about other people. As much as I hate you, you’re the one who first nudged me back into being remotely human. That doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy dancing on your grave. I hate you most of all, because you made me love you.
To my real mother, whose name I don’t know, I wish I could remember you. I try to. Sometimes I lay awake at night, trying to break through the blackness that shrouds my childhood, but I can’t. I can’t remember what you looked like or the sound of your voice. I hope your next life was better than this one.
I am who you made me.
Sylar
The Letter Blog
Fandom: Heroes
Word count: 385
Rating: PG for angst
Prompt: I grew up quick and I grew up mean,
My fist got hard and my wits got keen
A Boy Named Sue, by Johnny Cash for
scifi_musesNotes: Letter Blog entry - worked as a post on the Muses too.
To My Parents,
I’m writing this to all of you, my real parents, my adoptive parents, and to you, Angela, for making me want something so badly that it still hurts that you lied.
Samson, I don’t know if you’re alive or dead. Leaving you to fester in your own filth the way I did was one of the best choices I ever made in my life. You didn’t deserve the quick death I could have given you. You’re a disgusting sack of shit, and I wish to hell I didn’t carry your genetics. I can promise you this; I will never end up like you. I won’t die alone, miserable in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. When I die, everyone will know my name.
Virginia, I’m sorry you died. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I lost control trying to make you see that I was special, that I was someone. You didn’t want me to be Gabriel, and your death locked that part of me away for a long time. He’s slipped back into my mind now, giving me the insecurities, that fucking need for approval and companionship that Sylar was above. Hope you’re happy about that. I do miss you. You weren’t the worst mother on the planet, and you did love me. I loved you too. I still do.
Angela, you lying bitch. Thank you so much for dangling the Holy Grail in front of my nose, but I can’t blame you for reaching for it. That was my problem. You played the Gabriel card with me, and won the hand. You woke him up. You made me start to care about other people. As much as I hate you, you’re the one who first nudged me back into being remotely human. That doesn’t mean I won’t enjoy dancing on your grave. I hate you most of all, because you made me love you.
To my real mother, whose name I don’t know, I wish I could remember you. I try to. Sometimes I lay awake at night, trying to break through the blackness that shrouds my childhood, but I can’t. I can’t remember what you looked like or the sound of your voice. I hope your next life was better than this one.
I am who you made me.
Sylar
The Letter Blog
