Triumph

While others shied away from it, she made it her triumph.

How else could she be different, after all?

Life became a game to her, a thrill.

She lived for the rush, 

to feel the adrenaline trickling into her veins,

to laugh as the wind whipped across her face

and the brief, uplifting thrust of watered-down joy it brought her.

But that's all it was.

Brief. Short. Limited.

She could barely get by the rest of her days. 

She was drunk on risks, 

intoxicated by the dangerous high on what she was told was impossible.

So, slowly, she brought it into her life.

She cut her wrists and stepped on broken glass and smiled while doing it too.

It was a wicked grin, 

full of unfathomable wildness, 

with a touch of insanity at the edges.

Only if you looked long enough could you see the tinges of misery that streaked through her heart, 

for she pretended it didn't exist.

She decided she would greet death on her own terms

and so she did.