We all have heroes. We always choose our heroes based on what we value. We lionize those who are the best parts we see in ourselves.
My heroes, after a time, fell by the wayside. Except for the fictional ones. The legends, either constructed by another writer or by many people over the ages. Those few who I could believe in who were real had feet of clay.
I realized later that was the greatest strength.
To be flawed and still do what has to be done is real strength. We all stand up on uncertain feet. Our strength is that we still stand.
A lady who I once defended called me Sir Gawain the first night I met her. Another lady who I met in the midnight streets while she cried said I reminded her of her brother because I stopped and listened to her. On the other side, there are infinitely more people who would rather I vanished. They either hate me or they have no room for me.
I don’t have the arrogance to think that my detractors are wrong. Nor do I have the right to contradict the feelings of the few people I’ve helped. All I have is the feeling that I am a piece of crap who can do better. Someone who did good things on occasion, and who can try to keep doing things to help someone else.
Don’t fool yourself. There are no heroes. There’s just us. Ordinary fools with echoes in their heads of heroes we wish were real to take our place.
We all stand uncertainly. You know how hard it is to try to do the right thing, especially when it faces you. You always think you’ll rise to the occasion and fight the good fight for yourself for others, but when the moment comes, you can disappoint yourself.
But there’s always another moment.
Your friend,
Edgar
Talk Me To Sleep 