I must confess. I have PSD. I got it one crazy night. She was beautiful. We were drunk. She looked deep into my eyes and, without even thinking, I was over all her buttons and she was making me swoon.

She was a PowerMac 8100, the first computer with a PowerPC RISC processor. It had Adobe Photoshop installed, and it became my life. A few years later, I was going around layering things, increasing color saturation levels, and mentally clicking Command-Z every time I fucked up in real life.

In fact, I've even used it to fix real life mistakes, eliminating a certain ex out of some dear photos with other friends. A futile effort, because I can still see her smile, even if she's not there.

Photoshop is so deeply ingrained in my brain that, when people ask me how to do something with it, I can't answer. No, I'm not kidding. I just know that my fingers move automatically, without knowing where they land on the keyboard. I don't know where things are anymore. It just happens and, if I really think about it, it freaks me out a bit. [Hyperakt via swissmiss]