Hello Awesome Humans, Your Presence is larger than life. Here on X, Face Book, & Instagram, I have been blessed with a lot of incredible people who have entered my life and never left. One cannot buy people; one must earn them. Then, we have to figure out how to keep them. On February 6th, 2027, I will release the final chapter of this road we have been on since April of 25'. I am going to share the 'Authors Note' and the Table of Contents for Still Moving-Into the Clearing. 95% of what I have learned about the writing industry in the last 2 years, I have not liked. It is all polar opposite of my personality. But that 5%, is what I hang onto dearly, with all my might. That 5%, is all of you. Everything- you all have said and done on behalf of the work and myself; I will carry that to my grave. That is no lie! Best wishes to everyone! {Authors Note} “The road does not promise arrival. It only asks whether you are willing to keep moving.” This book was not written to heal you. I wrote it because I kept meeting people who had survived something real and were being handed advice meant for people who had not. I wrote it because maybe you have been fighting memories and they keep getting in the way of a life you are trying to build; this might be for you. I'm not a therapist, I'm not a philosopher with tenure, and I'm not standing somewhere clean trying to explain dirt to you from a distance. This is what I know from where I've actually been: the cab of a truck at all hours, the wrong side of a relationship I couldn't see clearly until I was out of it, and the long, unglamorous work of figuring out who you are after the human parts you were born with get taken apart. Trust is baseline. When it collapses, you rebuild from the floor up. That’s the part worth writing about. If you're looking for comfort that doesn't cost anything, this isn't your book. If you're looking for someone who's been in it and is willing to say so plainly, keep reading. TOC: Along the way, four pages are left for you—to pause, reflect, and make part of this road your own. Author's Note3 Road Ghost6 What the Road Reveals13 Jane — A Case Study in Distortion21 Identity Mechanics28 Coping Without Collapsing33 What Healing Actually Looks Like43 A Grander Plan50 After the Damage55 What I Haul, and What I Don’t60 Why Aren’t You Moving?65 Preamble to the Attraction Pattern68 The Attraction Pattern71 The Invasion Without Malice73 The Chase for the Dawn75 The Protector Reflex79 The Alarm Bell80 Why I Stepped Forward82 After The Danger83 The Architecture of Intimacy85 From Morning to Night91 The Road Ghost Addendum94 The Chainbreaker — Ending What Was Never Meant to Be Allowed to Continue97 The Weight I Carried98 The Moment That Defined the Line99 The Victory No One Sees102 Hamburgers in Hell105 Hummingbird113 Addiction to Beauty117 Friendships Forged119 The Soldier & the Boy123 Dougie127 One Key Stroke132 INTERLUDE: THE ROADSIDE LEDGER 138 What the Miles Left Me138 CODA141 From My Life to Yours141

Please pay a visit to Monica B. As writers we need to support each other's dreams. Congratulations!

Now I am nervous! That the moment every writer dreams of — when someone who could read anything she wants, chooses this one. I look forward to your thoughts. Thank you, BB.

My son and I just finished a poem we worked on together for some time. I asked him to write one, but he said, “What if I tell you how I feel and you write it, Dad?” So, we sat down, talked, reflected on real life… and I turned his heart into words. Last night I finally finished it. I hope you all enjoy it. This poem will be in the next book. Have a great weekend everyone! “My Name Is David” by Jac Winters I want to speak, but sometimes I just can’t. The words are in my mind, but they won’t rise, they won’t advance. They circle like a storm inside, a thought I can’t unwind, and all that’s left is silence where my voice gets left behind. I walk among the world each day, aware of every face, yet somehow, I am standing there and still feel out of place. I sort through all my problems in a fog I can’t define, hoping for a pathway out that never quite aligns. And when the darkness settles in between me and my friends, this maze of mixed‑up signals seems a road that never ends. Being me is not so easy— but I fight it all the same, and when I see my parents’ eyes, their love calls out my name. My family, friends, and co‑workers look puzzled when I lose another thing I swear I had— a thought I can’t refuse. So I take my bike and ride awhile to feel the world unwind, and somehow when I pedal back, the things I lost I find. The docs gave me their medicines, all sizes, big and small— this color and that color, they said, “Son, you’ll try them all.” “Here, this one helps you turn the page,” but all it did was turn to rage; I’d sit and hear their reasons, but inside I felt displaced. I begged for them to listen, to understand my pain— it’s not like skin that heals itself, this hurt comes back again. Confusion wraps around me till I lose the will to grin; I want a life where I can say “I fought this thing and win!" but often it consumes me till I’m trapped inside the spin. For all the times they tried to help, I knew it wouldn’t stay, I prayed the Lord above would get me through the day. No matter what I battle, There’s one thing I know for sure: I always find my way back home— to mom, my dad, and my sister… They’re the place I feel secure. autism is a burden, but it’s not the whole of me. Their guidance love and wisdom help me endure. Beneath my skin’s confusion is a heart you rarely see. No matter the strife It's not my identity. I’m a worker, I’m a boy with a soul as wide as earth itself and a life that holds its joy. The End