After days and nights of lugubrious moments spent under the claw of hurtful memories, I endeavored with all my soul and the strength of my left hand to hold a piece of blank paper to pen my Memories of Broken Souls. As I wrote, I felt each teardrop that slid down the cheeks of my shame, piercing always my heart. Describing the failures and wrongdoings of myself and my former friends that had led to such selfishness, the worst was facing myself in the mirror, reflecting these memories that still are, and perhaps forever will be, trapped within me. These stories make my breathing shallow, and I still become agitated as the flashbacks trigger. Yet, now they have pushed me to make a positive difference by helping people. The events I describe have had a direct impact on the messages I hope to send through this book.
The writer brings us from the deepest despair to bearable anguish to workable grief.
–Lee Ann, editor, Firstediting