still broken

["Nothing Works, I'm Still Broken", originally created 11/23/2003]

ink, blood, fire, and clock parts...

The Story

Four years after Rachel, my ex-wife, and I got together, it came to an end. I had sacrificed everything, struggled, suffered, and done anything and everything I could to keep us together. It was not enough. She could not stop seeing other people and I could not abide it.

I was sick, so very sick... I couldn't eat, I couldn't sleep, and in the worst of pain, physically, emotionally, psychologically and spiritually. And even though it was over, I could not understand it. I kept trying to fix it - to fix myself. And I couldn't leave, because I didn't have enough money at that point to go. I was an unwanted stranger in my own home - a home that was no longer mine, a family that was no longer mine. I lost everything...

I begged her to stop seeing her boyfriend for a couple of weeks, just so I could wrap my head and heart around it. She refused. I couldn't seem to get through to her that I was losing my mind. I was on the edge of madness, of violence. I couldn't take it anymore.

I had bought this old clock with the numbers that flip over at a thrift store, something neat I remembered from my childhood. I got it home and it didn't work. I messed with it and couldn't get it to work. Broken, like me.

I took a hammer and smashed it to pieces. I wrote the note, drew my own blood and smeared it across it, burned the edges, and placed it on the mess right in front of the door, waiting for her to see when she returned from work.

She was pissed. And she didn't get it...

Three months later I finally left, with the generous help of my father, and returned to Massachusetts. I've been healing slowly since then, but in some senses I am still broken...

Another demon purged...