It has been nearly ten years and my doctors have been unable to find a cure. You see, I live in a personal hell from which there is no relief; no respite from the daily infatuation that I have to live with and has consumed every moment of my life. For some other poor souls who suffer with this affliction there is hope, but for me there will be none. Judge me not dear strangers, for even though we may have never met I cannot help taking pictures of you.
Ever since I received my first digital camera back in 1999, a strange compulsion washed over me. A sweet and thoughtful gift from my grandson lit a fire of obsession and before long, I found myself having to take pictures all the time. Taking photos at first was fun and was limited mostly to the ordinary family pictures you might expect. Birds in my backyard, sunsets, sunrises, storm damage, the first images were in keeping with what a 'normal' person would take. Before four months had passed however, things began taking a dark and disturbing turn. I found myself having to use the camera every moment I was awake. I couldn't control my impulses to take photographs of even the most mundane things; a lamp in my house, a nondescript shrub in my front yard, whatever appeared in front of me. It didn't matter. I had to capture the image at all costs. During one of these episodes, I took 186 pictures of the cracks in my driveway then deleted them all without a second thought just to make room for more of the same. This went on for what seemed like days. Often I am jolted awake in the night out of fear that I'm missing a chance for a great picture of the water heater or the kitchen table. I'm so far gone that there is absolutely no hope of ever getting back. I have taken 643 pictures of the mailman running away from me so far and I don't even know his name!
One day, I found myself inexplicably drawn to taking random photos of the customers who were going in and out of the convenience store next door. I had a terrific view of the parking lot right over my fence and I found myself giddy at the promise of so much potential. There was activity on the other side of that fence that the couch in my living room could never compete with. Lights. Sounds. I was drawn like a moth to flame. A very crazy moth with a camera.
The casual comings and goings of patrons were just steps away. Living their lives, kids riding their bicycles; even locking those same bicycles up to the fence itself while they went inside to grab a Snickers bar and a Thirstbuster. So many bicycles. So many awesome close ups. The temptation was too much to bear. Now, I sit perched over the side of my fence snapping away the way a mental patient might eat glue until the supply is completely gone. Sometimes for hours or sometimes for days. Just snapping away until the battery in the camera dies from overuse, I only stop to insert a fresh set of double A's or to delete all the photos to make room for more.
My affliction is very serious. I have tried to get help so many times in the past, but the doctors refuse to see me anymore. I've been barred from many offices because of the flash blindness that accompanied my frequent visits. Others because I cannot pay, having used my monthly social security checks to purchase countless thousands of batteries. I haven't had electricity in four years because I am so broke. My only light source after the sun disappears below the horizon is that of a passing car or more frequently the flash bulb from my camera that I use to find my way in the dark. Point, shoot, step. Point, shoot, step. It goes on like this each and every night. Despite their initial efforts to help, my family has given up on me completely and I never see them anymore. I suppose it would have been a good idea to keep some photos of them to remember them by. It doesn't matter anymore, though. Now, the only companion I need is my precious Polaroid 3F70.
So, accept my apology in advance if you see me snapping pictures of you over my fence someday, or if I have already. I am a harmless old woman with a sad, serious photography disease and appreciate your compassion and understanding. I hope you don't harbor any ill will toward me, but perhaps you could do me a favor next time we meet. Could you bring your chin up a little and tilt your head slightly to the right? Great! That's a keeper.
