Dear Basil,

Can you ever possibly fathom the emotional power you held over Strawberry for years? You were a cruel, heartless manpulator, and you held her heart on strings. But know that she was no marionette. She did, does feel. She never was yours to toy with, and you never deserved her affection, or even her partiality. She has eyes, and she could see the ridiculing sneers you cast in her direction. She has ears, and she could hear your snide remarks. What are your eyes but items of unjust judgement. They see only skin-deep; they are not capable of seeing what lies beneath. I know that with your miniscule brain and limited imagination you think I mean her organs, but I am speaking of the passionate and brilliant writer and thinker that lies beneath. Your heart pumps blood like everyone else's, but it lacks the spark that enables kindness and this foreign and alien concept that we call love. Your brain has placed you in a math class two grades more advanced than your own, but you only see things for what they very bluntly are, not what they could become. You think you're the greatest, smartest being on the face of the Earth, but you cannot think outside of the box. Hell, you're so in the box that you must've been born in a UPS store. Don't think unkindly of her if you ever do see this letter, which I doubt because I have no intention of ever giving it to you. These are my thoughts and opinions, and if you think that thhis gives you the right to loathe me as much as you abhor her, then go right ahead. But please, cut loose her puppet strings. Just let her go.