They say you should never meet your hero.
And they were right.
Because there’s something sacred about loving someone from afar, before you hear how they speak to their assistant, or how they chew with their mouth open, or how their deep, inspiring tweets are actually written by a ghostwriter who also runs a skincare blog.
Heroes are wonderful... in theory.
On stage, they are polished. Profound. Poised.
Off stage, they are people. And people, as you may have heard, are messy. Inconsistent. Sometimes rude. Sometimes tired. Sometimes chewing gum while giving life advice.
The first time it happens , the disappointment , it almost feels personal.
You think, “Wait. This is the person I quoted in my dissertation?”
“This is the one whose podcast made me cry in 2020?”
“This is who I’ve been defending in comment sections for free??”
And you realise:
You didn’t love the person.
You loved the idea.
You built a cathedral from their content. You carved stained glass windows from their interviews. You placed them delicately on a pedestal, only for them to walk right off in mismatched socks and a surprisingly fragile ego.
But maybe that’s the point.
Maybe the goal is not to cancel your hero when they disappoint you.
Maybe it’s to release them from the pressure of being superhuman and to free yourself from the need to worship anyone who breathes the same air as you.
Because real maturity is learning to admire deeply and hold loosely.
To be inspired by someone’s light but not undone by their shadow.
And honestly? Sometimes your hero shouldn’t meet you either.
You’re better in their imagination.
With better skin. And perfect opinions.
So yes, never meet your hero.
But if you do...
Let them be human.
And let that be enough.
We must stop holding people to a standard we ourselves cannot attain. When we acknowledge our own shortcomings, we create room for others to grow without fear of condemnation.
I always remember to give people grace because at the end of the day they are just humans like me