Memoirs of an Addict Pt. VI

My brother, Pete, and I have always had a bizarre relationship.  Equal parts contentious sibling rivalry, unequivocal loyalty, and turbulence.  He is my best friend and my worst enemy, sometimes on the same day, sometimes within the same hour.  The nostalgia associated with showing a kid brother the finer things of boyhood was short-lived if it ever existed at all.  I am to blame for this. And for that matter it did exist, in some capacity. He was the Robin to my Batman. I remember fondly running around in our Halloween costumes year-round in the overgrown fields behind our old house on Schust St.  A desolate, flat rendition of Gotham City but it was our Gotham City. I, the Caped Crusader, racing mad on one of those old metal tandem swings.

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The ones you never see anymore because they likely resulted in numerous child fatalities over the course of the 90s.  All the while shouting at my three-year-old Boy Wonder. He was my sidekick during the early years. Retrospect provides a painful realization to the fragmentation of this innocent bond. The outside world terrified me, while the inside world was a bore.

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