tender transparency

her head was swimming in flummadiddling thoughts. dead? how could i be dead when i'm aware of my own blink? her subjective angle caught glimpse of the running water. my blinks are joining the tap water drips: blink, drip, blink, drip... cute tune. she braced herself internally: no, no. death is way off in an opposite galaxy than i am right now. rumours are rumours and i rise above them as always. she picked herself off the floor and lifted the dropped dead purse, opened it and took out a piece of paper and a pen and started scribbling something. as the words unravelled from her pen, the white paper's reflection shed light on her face that unraveled a slight smile, but a smile nonetheless. i'd rather smile my cries as a method of giving them credit. yeah. i'm a smiling crier. because i seem to suffer from pain asymbolia anyway.
she finished writing the note, took out a pair of cuticle-scissors and nailed (or scissored would be more appropriate) the note to the bathroom door. it was her unsuicide note. it was her ticket out of the confusion. it was her old self self-awaring itself.
what she wrote on that note was actually one word. but she had used only the good letters to write it. care to guess what it was?