Puerto Rican flag with a Holy Bible and handgun in front, next to a silhouette of a man covering his face in distress

Before the Pages Turn: Why I Wrote Split Down the Middle

Before a single page is turned or a chapter unfolds, I want to let you in on why this book exists—and why it matters.

Split Down the Middle is more than a memoir. It’s a reckoning. A journey through the darkest corners of my past, the complicated choices I made, and the slow, painful climb toward healing. Writing it has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done—harder than surviving the streets of Newburgh, harder than navigating fatherhood with the weight of trauma on my back, and harder than facing truths I tried to bury for decades.

For years, I carried a mask—husband, father, professional, friend. But behind it was a story I rarely told. A story filled with contradiction: love and betrayal, loyalty and regret, pride and shame. I lived a life split between the desire to belong and the need to break free. Between family ties and gang ties. Between who I was and who I was meant to become.

This book is my attempt to make sense of that split.

It doesn’t offer easy answers or polished resolutions. But it offers truth. Raw, honest, and unfiltered. I talk about growing up navigating a strained relationship with my mother, getting pulled into gang life, and the heartbreak of trying to build a family while still battling demons I hadn’t named. I talk about God. About forgiveness. About the lies that nearly cost me everything—and the truth that set me free.

If you’ve ever felt like you were living two lives… if you’ve ever chased love while running from pain… if you’ve ever looked in the mirror and wondered who you really are—this book is for you.

I didn’t write Split Down the Middle to be a perfect memoir. I wrote it to be an honest one.

In the coming weeks, I’ll share more behind-the-scenes stories, favorite chapters, and even a few excerpts. But for now, just know this: you’re not alone in your struggle. And no matter how broken your past may be, healing is still possible.

Thanks for being here. The journey is just getting started.

—Gregory Camacho