If you find yourself in a certain park at night, there will be a man in a black trenchcoat, standing on a tree stump, holding out his arms. You can ask to buy ‘product’ off him, and he will take your money and leave and you will stand there feeling stupid.
Three days later, when you’ve forgotten all about the incident and moved on, you will wake up with the urge to look yourself in the mirror. It’s dark so your pupils have dilated, and you can see what’s inside them.
Don’t do that; it will know that you’re there.
I don’t know what’s worse, them knowing I’m there or me knowing that they know I’m there.
Yeah, that’s why you shouldn’t do it. Don’t think too much, either, about what it actually is, or how big the inside of your eye could possibly be. Cavernous? Could it be cavernous? How big is that? Don’t ask yourself that. Don’t question how mirrors work. Don’t try to figure out — cavernous? — where you are looking from, if it is not from inside your eye.