And then, it hit me... he's an addict, and that's what addicts do. His pills rule his world now and there isn't a thing I can do about that. I tried. I tried so hard to help him. I tried to understand. I tried to tell him that he was worth more than that and deserved better than being a slave to addiction. He didn't want to hear it. Occasionally he'd cry, but then shake it off like he didn't hear a thing I said. His parents and family see it, they've been through it with him before, they must see it, but I guess it's just easier to pretend that everything is fine and it's all my fault. He's always the victim, he's never been, and never will be, responsible for what happens to him. It just happens because he's so unlucky.
It appears to me you have a very, very strong handle on what's really going on here. Probably stronger than you realize. And so comes the moment of pain: putting him and the madness behind you.
It's going to suck at first, but once you feel your sanity returning a moment at a time, it'll suck less and continue to suck less until all you feel is a general sadness that he chose not to take responsibility for his life.
But you'll be fine. Trust me on this.