All day, I have checked to make sure my eyes aren't bleeding. In case you have ever wondered what kind of a freak I am, there you have it: the kind of freak who checks to make sure his eyes aren’t bleeding.
This isn’t something I do on a daily basis, but today, it has just been one of those days. I’m guessing that a reasonable person might be asking at this point, One of those days where your eyes bleed? What the hell kind of day is that?
And the truth is, I don’t know. An off day, for sure. Not a bad day, really, but an odd one. No particular reason, other than the fact that I keep thinking my eyes are bleeding. Because even for me, this is not normal behavior.
They’ve been watering all day, though, and burning something fierce. They feel like the way it feels when you get a cut on your hand or whatever. Stingy and leaking. I know that logically, there is no reason for my eyes to bleed, and I realize that if they felt this way ten minutes ago and weren’t bleeding, they’re probably still not bleeding.
Still, though, I check.
Even worse, I expect my eyes to be bleeding. Again—no particular reason for this. But I’ve been nervous each time I blot my eyes, expecting my tissue to come away tinged with red. So far, this hasn’t happened.
I sat down at my desk a while ago, and just as I did, I remembered that I had forgotten my giant cup of water. I went and got it, and when I came back, there was a spot on my desk calendar. Red. Still wet.
I blew my nose, thinking that maybe it was a nose bleed. Nothin’. I then reached up and touched each of my ears, checking to see if they were the culprits. Nope. You know what I checked next? I checked my beard. I shit you not. I had just gotten out of the shower, and I thought maybe my beard—which was still slightly moist—might have dripped something. Why my beard would be dripping red shit, I don’t know.
I checked my nose again. Still not bleeding. I felt my cheeks—maybe a cut or something, I don’t know. My hands came away clean.
I lifted up the February page of my calendar, thinking maybe something was soaking through. Like maybe I dropped a freakin’ tomato down under there or something. I was grasping at this point, I admit. But think about it, man—do you want to find out your eyes are bleeding?
Shit no, you don’t.
I stared at the little spot of red, wondering where it came from. My vision was clear, so I was pretty sure that I wasn’t bleeding from my eyes, but I still wasn’t brave enough to check.
It was unsettling, that spot. So I put a Post-It note over it.