Dear Photoshop

Dear Photoshop,

I used to think guys were the most complicated things on this earth. Dating one girl while flirting with a hundred others, playing video games so intently that they forget to pee, staring at clothed women and taking mental pictures of them without any of those clothes. But clearly you are posing them such tough competition.

The one thing about guys is that atleast they have a game plan. If it's not completing the GTA mission, it is getting into a girl's pants. And if it's not any of the above, it is definitely eating. Eating like one who has been starved for over a month now. Every time they act strangely, you can attribute their strange behavior to any of these three things. Once you have got that figured you can have them eating out of your palms.

As for you, forget trying to understand your game plan, I can't even remember the purpose of your tools. I have no idea how to use you, how to get you to do the things I want you to or how to manipulate you. I know people go on an about how you are one of the best editing software ever created, but in my opinion they are probably just really ugly people and like you for the simple fact that you atleast made their virtual image somewhat decent.

But when I tried doing that, I ended up looking like a disfigured person suffering from leukoderma. So you have not only manages to perplex me to an unimaginable extent but also made my virtual image look pathetic. You know I used to think I was pretty smart until you came along. For one I could dissect male behavior, I could give relationship advice, take less that three seconds to figure what if top A matches with skirt B, get okayish grades, submit decent project. I even figured how to use Facebook, Twitter, Microsoft word and PowerPoint.

And then you came along to turn my life upside down. My self confidence went down to ground zero. Hell may be even the parking lot! And I just don't see it coming up from there. =(

Dear I-don't-want-to-like-you-anymore,

Sometimes I wonder why I obsess over you.Is it really worth it? Are you really that worth it?

I'm not someone who brags about myself, but I know one thing for sure. I've been a good friend. A damn good one. There were times I just wanted to give up on you. But I never bloody did. I was there for you more than you were ever there for me, without holding onto to any expectations or hoping that someday you'd look out for me in the same way as I did. It was enough for me to know that you were a part of my life and would forever continue to be. Yet I had to watch you slip away, like all that we ever built was but an illusion.

But may be this is what I deserve for caring more than I should have. May be this is just what I deserve for caring about the sort of people who cant love or care about you back. But should I really be crying over you? After all, losing out on someone who hardly cares is not a loss at all. The truth is, you are the one who is losing out on someone. May be you assumed I would always be there because I never let you realise what it is like when someone who means a lot disappears at random intervals from your life. Or the feeling of waking up and wondering if may be today that someone will finally come back.

I know how peep into you soul and wonder why the emptiness, the hollow happiness, keep resurfacing every now and then. May be if you learned to value the people who really look out for you, you wouldn't have to drown out the bereft silences with the voices of people who mean nothing at all. So I have finally decided that the only way to make you value my presence is by letting you taste what my absence feels like.

You know as hard as it is for me to step out right now, I know I'll find my happiness someday. But you will come back home after every fantastic party and in the lonely silence of your home you'll wonder, why the feeling of satisfaction does linger. The empty hole will speak again. It will yearn to be comforted by the company of someone who cares. But dear friend I wont be there. This time I really wont be there.

Dear D,

I'm really sorry you don't like the Girl in the Mirror. I'm sorry for the times you look at your wrestler arms and realise it's only fat that make them this round. I'm really sorry you have such a hard time breathing in those body hugging, I mean body-squeezing/life taking dresses you wear everytime you go clubbing so you can look half as good as we do.

But the truth my love is that no matter what you do, you'll never look half as good as me. No matter how hard you try, people well never like you as much as they like me. The quality is called Genuineness, you bitch!, Nobody likes Plastic! No matter how many times you hug a person, you'll always be a fake-bitch! So what if a few people fall for your old tricks, they'll figure out eventually! Just like I did!

I'm really sorry guys are not into, except the desperate ones, or the ugly ones, or the ones who say bast-uf-lurk before an exam. Never mind that even they get bored of you after a while.

I'm sorry you have to try so hard to keep the girlfriends also. As soon as they who you really are, they want to run for their lives.

I'm so sorry for all the times you've tried to understand the intent conversations I have with other people and failed miserably. IQ is just one of those things you cant do much about. just like that tiny miserable height of yours.

I'm sorry I have stooped down to this level. But really, haven't you wrecked my life enough already?