Siblings shouldn't be siblings

Just as Sesquipedalien, I also found an open door of thought after reading this article linked to from Sesq's (I hope you don't mind me calling you that) post

Why we fight, why we fight. Why do you fight? And I guess; Why do they fight?

These questions, asked by me, my brother, mom and dad, went unanswered during our whole childhood. They still are unanswered, but since me and my brother have stopped fighting, the question and therefore the answer is irrelevent, or at least unnecessary. I still can't figure it out and I'm not sure I want to go there because my brother and I have a pretty good relationship now, at least compared to what we had before. I've always respected my brother for what he is, my older brother and he has always stood me by, except when I stood in his way. When the going got tough, he was the tough who got going. And the going was almost always fierce. I have been rushed to hospital on more than one occassion after have been in a fight with him.

He threw a rock on my head (stiches)
He threw a fit and launched a fist right on top of my skull (stiches, or glue, can't remember)
Once I tried to stab my brother with a pen, luckily I failed and the consequence was that the pen ran through my hand instead. Which by it self was pretty funny since I could't feel anything and I wondered where the hell the pen went.

But, perhaps it would have been better if I had stabbed him, just a little, like 5 mm into his thigh or something, so I could get the blame. When I stood there with the pen through my hand, it went as it always went. My brother got the blame, since I was the one, as always, who was injured or crying. I was just as often to blame as he was for the fighting, actually me more often than he. I recognised the consequences my brother had to deal with after each fight, and I used it to my advantage. That was the only weapon I had against him. I could start a fight and see that I was about to loose it and start crying and my brother got the blame.

My brother had everything I wanted, he was strong, tall, he could fight, he had lots of friends, he listened to great music (albums he owned), he had the coolest clothes and he told me the coolest stories of his exploits. I on the other hand had everything he wanted. I had our fathers devotion.
And since I used that to my advantage, it became an evil spriral, which ended only when we separated, when he went into his military service.

There I've said it. That was the reason for the fighting. Now hush! On sunday I'm off to see another fotball game with my brother, as we've done every week the last 4 or 5 years. Perhaps there will be room for a beer after the game.