A word has been thrown at my face for a lifetime.
As a child, I was paranoid because I refused to sleep. But my dear mother did not know about insomnia.
At school I was called paranoid, because I liked board games, but not playing football and running around, hopping up and down joyously but aimlessly like all other kids. Paranoid because I was able to be half asleep, drawing, or reading, cartoons, but yet able to respond, and answer to any question thrown at me.
I was paranoid, stopping my medication, start drinking and smoking, while my heart and liver were about to explode before I hit 20. Yet, here I am, 46 years old, smoking like a locomotive.
In the army, I was paranoid because I bent, and broke, every plan and strategic rule to suit me. Paranoid, because I wanted to die with honor, not just fight like it. Nine years, five war zones, not a single scar, I’m still here.
I was paranoid, because I refused I suffer from PTSD and depression. Paranoid enough, I sent two of my “support doctors” to an asylum, one committed many years ago. Like I always said, here I am, enjoying my nightmares.
I was paranoid, because I was crazy for my little one. Teaching her survival skills and self-defense aged four, yet playing with her dolls and their tea parties. I was paranoid taking the plane home, because she sneezed. Paranoid, resting my life and soul to her shoulders. Paranoid, not taking my medication, not seeking a doctor, but sleeping in her arms like a baby.
I was called paranoid, taking my little one with me, teaching ourselves “naughty photography”. Paranoid, letting her make a story, dictate the scene, treat every girl in “our line of work” like her. Playing, laughing, giggling, overlooking, overprotective. Paranoid, putting “Play” in my shoots, destroying a “good porn”.
I’m not a pornographer, I don’t shoot pussies. I am a photographer, I shoot people. Girls that ought to be playful and cheerful, even being naked. She taught me that way, I’m too old to learn new tricks, and, although she’s not with us anymore, she won’t allow me to change. For a ghost, she still bites hard.
Wait until you meet us.