The Amazing Hero

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
A simple essay about my hero.

Submitted: May 23, 2013

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Submitted: May 23, 2013

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We all want be someone great, no matter who we are. We've gazed upon the stars, wondering why we’re here, hoping, begging that it’s part of a bigger picture, that we’re all interconnected. I remember being a little girl, gazing out of the window staring at the stars but not looking for them.

I was alone all the time as a little girl; today I prefer to be alone, it’s comfortable and simple. But as a young girl, I remember my dad leaving for work every day, and not coming home until I was fast asleep or sometimes, never coming home at all. I remember him being around on holidays, but I don’t remember having him around often. I remember my step mom and avoiding her uneasy eyes. I remember all these things, but what I remember the most was my castle upstairs, and my one, true hero.

I believe everyone has a hero, I believe that everyone needs a hero. I believe that as flawed human beings, we need people to look up to. As a child, we need a hero for guidance and a symbol to encourage us to accomplish anything we want. As adults, we tend to give up our childish views and turn to practical heroes, like parents, to get us through the day.

I never adopted a practical hero; I was never a practical person. I chose a superhero, I chose someone who wouldn’t be absent in my life, someone I could depend on. I wanted to be someone great, someone. I never chose religion, always doubting the existence of something that couldn't be proven. I never chose real people either, I knew that they’d let me down. I chose someone I could learn more about, see more of each day. I chose someone who would be a beacon of hope. I chose someone that modeled me in a way. I chose a hero. I chose Spider-Man

It’s corny honestly, who would ever choose a superhero to guide them through life? It’s impractical, absurd. But to me, Spider-Man was the only person I could depend on. My dad never came home, my step mom ignored my presence, and my mom was always working.  I was always alone, no one ever stayed; no one, except Spider-Man.

He first appeared to me in a video game, a distraction given to me to ease my loneliness.  A man crawling on walls, spinning webs, and wearing tights…who would ever imagine? Yet the more I spent watching this vigilante on the screen, the more he made me laugh, and suddenly I didn't feel so alone. Soon, Spider-Man’s own movie was released, and I saw it three times. Not long after that, I began comic book collecting, being rewarded for being a decent little girl: obtaining high grades, cleaning, and obeying my parents. And with each comic, I learned more about the character who was and would always be my hero. Never again was I alone.

He was intelligent, he had high values, and he was everything everyone else in the real world couldn't be. I wanted to be great like him; I wanted to be super just like him. He was my only true hero. I ran around the house in a Spider-Man, not Spider-Girl, costume, dreaming of the endless possibilities I could accomplish. Nothing was impossible to me, and alas I felt like I belonged.

Costumes transform us. As children we put on the magical costumes to turn into another person completely, to accomplish everything. But as we grow older, things began to change and we put away the silly costumes. We never know when, but we assume we have to do it to grow up, to go through a complete metamorphosis. When I looked at the stars, I was waiting to catch a glimpse of the one who he gave me hope, Spider-Man comforted my solitude. I have never put away the costume, and I never will.  


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