useless

a few posts ago, i wrote about how much i love my little brother. tonight, just as i came home, he came to the door of my room and looked really pained and awful. he said, "you know, i'm not even supposed to be down here." i thought he was referring to the sty in his left eye (it must run in the family), and to my mom's tendency to quarantine any of us when we're sick. no, he said, he's just not allowed to leave his room unless he's eating a meal (or, obstensibly, going to school). he'd been so proud of himself a few weekends ago, when i was home, because he'd been able to kick some of the compulsions and was living relatively normally. now, he's not allowed to leave his room, or read books, apparently, which i discovered when i asked him to not only leave his room but to hang out down here with me and read something. i held that little kid in my arms as he cried about how the rituals rule his life. he confides in me and cries to me and lets me prod him for answers i know he doesn't want to give, and i can't help him. we can't help him.

it breaks me inside. almost literally. he's in the bathroom right now, brushing his teeth with one of the three tubes of toothpaste he still keeps in their original boxes, and touching the doorknob three times behind him. i'm not here to see it get worse, and when it does, it breaks me inside.

it's been a long time since i've cried about something important.