68. and this is no more than a parallel

it’s funny, this. i started a post on the 19th of october and never finished it. sometimes i do that. sometimes the words are jumbled in all sorts of ways and i just can’t them to make sense. 
19th of october: viktor’s birthday. i always wrote a story on that day; my form of celebration. but this one went untold.

sometimes i still think about him and wonder if he made me. sometimes i think he did. victor frankenstein created a monster. but that is no more than a parallel.

“consecration.
when you look back to your childhood and remember the way the priest broke the bread during mass, is there not something in it you cherish? the moment of peace, the silence as the bread is broken. for you and me. for us.

i didn’t know you then. you still don’t know me now. but lets plow on – you reap what you sew.”

i remember my thoughts that day. of S and how not too long ago you were him: longing to stand by my side, waiting forever for the imaginary day where i was yours.
and i reminisced on the act of consecration, the way one would when breaking bread and pouring wine. only not of christ. of S.

and that was that.
and this is no more than a parallel.