Within this book lie various parts of my soul, such as the torn-up version, the bitten-off version, and the death of many versions. There are not many pieces of my body that I have not self-inflicted on, and this book holds the parts that hold me together. I wear on the outside what is my personal battleground. My scars are past and presentimprints that have joined me in my psychological war to find myself and my sanity. These scars are printed on pages now to express the never-ending pain and suffering that entails such beings who have felt such things. This book is for anyone who has drowned above land, who has frowned in the sun, or who has stopped beating the normal heartbeat. This book is my soul, cracked and never fully able to heal, yet out in the open for a breath of life.
