What are you looking at?

I just discovered I have a psychotic split-personality and the ‘other’ me heads up a Fight Club during what the ‘me’ me thinks are my sleeping hours, because I woke this morning with the largest freaking crimson shiner I have ever seen; for which there is absolutely no other explanation. None. (Well, it could be related to the severe allergic reactions I have to some products, and that I rubbed an unfamiliar cream on that eye last night before bed—but c’mon, what are the chances of that?) Nah. My crazy, sexy, female Brad Pitt looking doppelganger is off kicking serious ass while I sleep, more likely.

Which is why--for those of you who have never entered a jam-packed rush hour subway station with a battle wound (like a gargantuan, purple-red, totally sealed closed eye)--I enjoyed quite the pleasant commute this morning. I’ve never received such looks of wonder and fear. I’ve never been given such a wide berth stepping into a subway car, or enjoyed that level of peace and quiet during my ride. They were shitscared! If the other me’s opponent’s face looks anything like mine does…they’d better be.