In my life, I have numerous characters I call my heroes. Those I look up to, respect, admire. Some are alive, some dead. Many are fictional, and several are not technically of this world.
Something they all have in common though, is that each of them is clearly, in their own way, flawed.
Perhaps the reason I so treasure the flaws in my heroes is that they remind me they are imperfect. That they are, like us, prone to failure from time to time, that they are susceptible to things that make them vulnerable. Their flaws are what make them, so to speak, human - regardless of what planet or dimension they might hail from.
There are times when they fall to their knees because they simply cannot take it, whatever 'it' may be.
And in their time of weakness, they need others around them to help them back up, just as any of us would when we fall.
Perhaps, I like the idea that someone like me could help my hero back on to their feet, and just for a moment, no matter how brief, I could be the hero in their eyes.
A hero to my hero, whose victory might never be celebrated, my story never told, my song never sung.
But I would know.
I would know that in my own way, I too had helped save the world, no matter how flawed I, myself, may be.