She Knew

She knew. She knew that there was meant to be more than this. Meant to be more to living. More than being cooped up in classes, more than sitting in the back corner of the library isolated by location and identity. More than waiting for someone to tell her she was all grown up and ready to enter the real world. More than being told she was too old by her peers. More than having smiled at understandingly, knowingly, while comfortingly being condescended to. For her, there was a more serious purpose than anyone could guess.

But she knew.

She was meant to bring something to this place that for far too long, it had had to make do without. She could see it there, hovering before her with the certainty that was the same as her belief in joy. This was it, her reason for existence. She was meant to dive into the river to save the drowning. Meant to run into the burning building to rescue those inside. Meant to comfort anyone in pain. Meant to cry for all the dying; meant to hold their hands as they gently fade away. Meant to save the world. Oh, how well she knew.

There was another. The one who was expected to save everything. The one on which who's shoulders currently rested the burden that she was preparing to carry. She watched him day by day and knew. He was falling, sinking slowly into the abyss under the weight of said heavy expectations. The world viewed him as their Angel of Light. She knew that his eyes would fail, that his faith would erode, that his wings would crumble to dust. And that then, he himself would dissipate into the wind like the smell of wood smoke on a winter's day. He had already been asked for more than he had in him to give. She would save him too. His eyes were full of pain, and she knew.

She would reach within herself and draw forth what gifts she had. She would read the necessary books; spend hours getting ready, while the oblivious dismissed her actions. She would practice the complex movements, memorize the intricate incantations. It didn't matter that most wouldn't understand. It didn't matter that the majority wouldn't trust in what she did. Her reason to live, her mission in life, she quite clearly knew.

And each day that she delayed hurt. It burned her soul. Unseen scars marred her conscience, left by each day that she had lingered. Halfheartedly wanting to believe that somehow the imbalance would resolve itself. That she need not give up what she had, and throw her all into the cause. She did not mind, really. She'd just always envied ordinary people and their misgivings. So she was loathe to loosen her grasp of the tree limb she was hanging from and fall, as it were. Faith was hard to believe in. And it would be a leap of faith, she knew.

And as for her motives...ego had nothing to do with it, and neither did pride. She would act out of pure empathy, out of the desire to bring something beautiful to the muddy world. Destruction was not her aim. Yet, destruction there would be since healing was. For true evils are prejudice, misunderstanding, and hate. She should shatter them all. She could shatter them all. She would shatter them all. And they could pick up the pieces and start again. Such is life, she knew.

She would be their hidden Angel. Rising out of the dirt, ascending slowly, flying higher into the sky, heading decisively for the burning sun.

She knew, and that was enough.