Letter to Ketchup:

You once said to me that I did not own people and their feelings.

Such lies I would expect of a parasite who tries to fool his host into believing the host to be the parasite.

I DO own people. And their feelings.

Every bit as much as you claim ownership of any thing other fleeting, temporary thing.

As much as YOU own them.

For they are not your EXCLUSIVE property.

And they are not their OWN exclusive property.

And nor do they belong to no one.

They belong to every one.

The rest is simply a measure of responsibility.

She was my responsibility. Not yours.

She came to me, and for a reason.

And I never failed in that duty.

My only error was to think that I could trust YOU to be alone with her.

Believing you would sooner slit your wrists than to come between your friends and what they want.

That you would purge yourself of all thoughts and feelings that could produce such a world.

That you would sooner drown yourself than to willingly and willfully benefit at any other man’s expense.

Ever.

Unless that man lost his personhood by some similar act.

That you would have the HONOUR to never associate again with that faceless man.

And that there would be no confusion:

That there could never be a conflict of interests between you and those whom you christened Your (Few) Friends.

There could only be a conflict of opinion, with regards to the Big Questions whose answers we all sought TOGETHER.

And that you would just as soon allow THEM to decide as you would bear the responsibility alone.

And that if you saw them taking steps, boldly and confidently, in a new direction, you could never stand in their way.

You have failed.

So now she no longer belongs to you.

And never will again.

And when you thought that she belonged to you exclusively, that very moment you lost her.

For I will not have my innocence wasted on a world wherein it is possible for one to benefit whilst an other suffers.

Such is a parasite’s world.

It is YOUR world.

And I will ensure that she shall never see it again.

In fact:

She has promised me, with all the fervor of a dying woman, not to.

Dm.A.A.