At first, it was a cry to fit in. All my friends had started. They loved it. They sang its praises. They encouraged me to join them. But a self-portrait every day for an entire year? Crazy.
They each had their own reasons for doing it -- document a year of change, improve photography skills, prove they could dedicate to something, and I'm sure a couple were just for pure narcissism. But most of them were attractive women and the men weren't exactly ugly. No one wanted to see me for an entire year. I'm overweight, tend not to shave consistently, go months without a haircut, and I'm just not that interesting, not to mention that I'm not very creative.
Those were my excuses. And they served me well for quite a while. "Oh, you should do it, too!" they'd say. I'd lob out whichever excuse felt good that day. Until one day, I just decided, "What the hell?" Sure, everyone had their reasons for doing it. Most of them were even good reasons. But not me. I just wanted to fit in, to follow the crowd. And if nobody looked, whatever; I was used to it.
That was 379 days ago.
I've got some loyal followers, some occasional commenters, and probably a few people who are entirely sick of seeing me, too. But that's okay. Those that stay around support, encourage, and inspire me. Those that don't, they just stay away. So it's a very friendly environment. I love them, and I think some of them may even love me. I'm fairly quiet about my feelings, so I showed them with a picture. After all, what better way to express yourself on a photo-sharing website? 
It didn't start that way, though. In the beginning, it was just my couple friends. They were nice, but I definitely started out a loner. They were each well-established, I was quietly starting out. The thousands of people in the group made it difficult to follow anyone, let alone get to know someone. By the time you got to the next day, you had 40 more pages of pictures to flip through. Then someone suggested all of us who started in November gather so we could follow a smaller group, all of whom were around the same point in the process. This is where the loyal followers came from. We all grew to depend on seeing each other every day, so none of us wanted to let the rest of the group down. So, we were devoted to each other.
Every day involved a new self-portrait. No matter what. Even on vacation. Try a new angle, maybe a new outfit, occasionally a new lens or camera setting, lots of experimentation. Lots of failure. But the occasional gem. Slowly, I started to figure it out. I'd pieced together what the various buttons on my camera did and I was fairly decent at making the camera do what I wanted it to do. I went in a guy with a camera and I came out a photographer. Not the original goal by any means, but I'm happy with it.
Every day involved a new story. Something happened that day, and I have a perfect place to put my feelings. Whether it be crushing loneliness, jubilant happiness, bated excitement, or any of the other emotions in between, I could express it. Whether through the description attached to the portrait, or more commonly, the expressions in the picture itself, I had a story to tell. And so did everyone else. This was probably the best part of the social experience, hearing everyone's story. Everyone's highs and lows, their moments of triumph and defeat, their regular lives and vacations. It kept it interesting, because there's only so many times you can look at someone's face as they hold the camera at arm's length (I was fairly guilty of this, too). So not only did I get to meet everyone, I also have a record of my story. This makes it interesting to look back at how things were.
But the biggest benefit of all was, at the end of the day, I had to turn the camera on myself and ask, "How am I doing?" It forced me to face my disappointments, stressors, challenges, and experiences. It made me question "Is it really that bad?" It made me see that I've come a long way from the man I was five years ago, or even a year ago. It's given me the confidence to like myself but also the wisdom to know I'm nowhere near perfect. It's introduced me to new people, new ideas, and new habits. It's let me see things I'd never seen before, even those which were already there. It strengthened friendships, encouraged openness, and generally improved my life. I wouldn't be where I am today if I hadn't decided to press that button.
And I'm so glad I did.
Each day may not be a masterpiece, but that's fine. I'm still forced to look myself in the surrogate eye. I'm still at it, and I won't be stopping anytime soon.
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