The Hero I Never Was

Growing up as a kid, I always dreamed of being a super hero. I was never Superman (too good) or Batman (too technological), but rather a more darker, yet still erring on the side of good personality. More of a Green Arrow rather than say, an Iron Man for example. I liked the simplicity of a bow and arrow, and the fact that he was masked. In essence I liked the mix of doing what needed to be done, and doing the right thing. I also enjoyed the prospect of being someone else, whilst still being myself.

Unfortunately, I failed. I have neither the physique I desired to have, nor the combat skills, nor the aim, or indeed, the ability to fight crime using a bow and arrow, as well as holding a high earning job. The main reason I feel I have failed however, is because I haven’t always done the right thing, at times I’ve been too afraid to do so, and the consequences of it, are things that still torment me to this day.

Whilst the mistakes of a child shouldn’t be the nightmares that torment a man, it is something that has become my cross to bear over the years. I failed in becoming the man I truly dreamt of being, and that frustrates me to no end. I look back to the games I played with my toys as a child, and every single game that I can remember, always had me playing out a scenario that I had gone through, only changing my actions, doing the right thing. This is something that I notice still bothers me to this day. The mistakes of the past, I replay in my mind and come up with different solutions, even though I realise they will never be rectified in the future.

A few years ago, I tried to make sense of all this, of this struggle between doing the right thing, and reliving past mistakes, and that is how I became The Raven, how my Raven persona began to take shape. The Raven now defines the dichotomy within me, the part of me that tries to do the right thing, despite the sorrow it can bring me, and the part of me that is forever tormented by his past.

I guess in many ways, The Raven is the true me, the very definition of who I am, my true personality, a personality that I often keep hidden within me, except for the things I write within this blog. For years I’ve been desperate to get a tattoo of a Raven on my arm, yet I’ve hesitated, both out of a fear of the pain, and out of a phobia of needles. Yet more and more I feel the compulsion to do so, yet at the same time, fear not being able to withstand the pain.

When I picture myself as The Raven in my mind, I see a long black Raven feather trench coat with Raven feather shoulders, a hood over my face with a mask slightly underneath and a silver Raven belt buckle. The very definition of both confidence, power and sorrow. The black defining the sorrow and sadness, and the power and confidence that such a ensemble would display, yet at the same time, the loneliness that a hidden face would convey.

It’s odd to see myself like this in a way because that confidence, is very much the antithesis to the way I am. Yet it is kind of ironic that whilst I am very much The Raven, the look the Raven has in my mind, is the complete opposite to what I look like, and still very much an idealised version of the way I would wish to be. The truth is though, I am The Raven, in the way that I described the definition of what The Raven is above, but I have still failed to become, the hero, the man that I wished to be. My definition of a hero growing up, and even to this day, is a man or woman, that does the right thing, despite the consequences to himself, because he truly believes in it, and in that respect, I have failed, I am the Hero that never was. Until next time, I have only thing to say, Quoth The Raven, Nevermore…

The Raven

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