don't lose me in the afterglow

We always end up right back where we started, don't we?

I still remember that one New Year's at Celebration. It was the first time all the boys were at a party together. But I remember my brother in particular. I'm not sure exactly where we were at before the MD made its way through his system for its fabled first time, but once it hit we were inseparable. He held on to me like we were five and told me such beautiful and honest things - about our parents, about himself, about us - that all I could do was to smile at him with the eyes of someone who had been there before and tell him that everything would work out.

Of course every magical night must come to an end. And slowly, all those honest words and good intentions went silent. Time started to work her own magic. We grew up and far apart.

But we returned to the same place older, more cynical and with more cuts and bruises than ever before. This time there would be no intense body rush. No flashes of the divine. No one single moment of unspeakable euphoria where your soul just goes dead calm with the feeling that everything is going to work out for the best. There was none of that.

There was only that one fleeting moment where I found my brother - again, maybe - and he looked at me and I looked at him and he put his hand on my shoulder and said: "We'll get through this." And all I could do was nod and hope that he was right. Because I wanted him to be right.

I wanted him to be right for all of us.