Confessions of a compulsive self-portraitist

I do take a lot of pictures of myself, it's true. I'm not sure why I do it, necessarily. It's a weird compulsion and I've tried to explain it away in various artsy or psychological ways... none of which really seem to fit. I really want to excuse it away because taking countless photos of yourself isn't really accepted in my circles. But honestly, I don't really care why I do it.
What is interesting to me, however, is that sometimes I scroll through the photos, taking in these reflections of myself (this almost becomes literal with the MacBook cam because it takes mirror image photos of me while I stare at myself... only difference is that I can't look myself in the eyes). That's the interesting part--looking back on those moments in time. It's not an exercise in vanity. If I had to compare it to anything, I'd say it's a bit like repeating a word over and over until the meaning of the word becomes disassociated with the sound of it. I don't really see the photos as images of me, but simply as... well, images I guess. But because I cerebrally know that it is, in fact, me, the act of scrolling through a log of my hair, clothes, tilts of the head.... but more importantly, thoughts and emotions.... well, it's a bit like having an out of body experience.
And well... sometimes getting out of my body is a feeling I want to chase.
But not today. I didn't scroll through my photos today.