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I shot this back in September. I’ve been holding onto this set for months because that day was an emotional whirlwind, and I wanted to put my thoughts into words before sharing it.
In 2022, I opened up about how being autistic makes it difficult for me to communicate, manage anxiety, and maintain friendships. I was tired of being misunderstood, tired of burning bridges, and tired of feeling alone. I wanted to find people who truly understood me.
For the next two years, I worked on myself—and I did find those people. For the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. But everything changed on Halloween weekend 2024.
That weekend, I was attacked on a subway car. A gun was pressed to my forehead. I narrowly escaped, and I believe I was almost shot.
In the weeks that followed, I experienced sudden anger and irritability—symptoms I later learned were tied to PTSD. It unraveled so much of the progress I had made. In a matter of minutes, I lost friendships that took years to build.
I was told that everyone has problems, to shut up, and to get a therapist. What hurt the most was that one of the main people involved—someone who showed no sympathy—is a YouTuber whose platform centers on equality and acceptance. Around the same time I was struggling, they were creating content to raise awareness for the autism community. It was hard to process how someone could publicly advocate for understanding, yet privately dismiss me when my PTSD became inconvenient.
I spent much of 2025 wrestling with this. I cared deeply about this person, and being discarded so easily broke me. In July 2025, I almost took my own life. I snuck into a building in Hell’s Kitchen and stood on a ledge for about an hour. I don’t know what made me step back, but I did.
Two months later, I took these photos. My high school friend Nick picked Jesse and me up, and we drove to the coastline. Nothing was planned—we expected an overcast sky, something perfect for black and white. But the clouds parted. The sky filled with color. A rainbow appeared.
Standing there with Jesse and my longtime friend Nick, witnessing that moment together… I’m still at a loss for words.
I shot this back in September. I’ve been holding onto this set for months because that day was an emotional whirlwind, and I wanted to put my thoughts into words before sharing it.
In 2022, I opened up about how being autistic makes it difficult for me to communicate, manage anxiety, and maintain friendships. I was tired of being misunderstood, tired of burning bridges, and tired of feeling alone. I wanted to find people who truly understood me.
For the next two years, I worked on myself—and I did find those people. For the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. But everything changed on Halloween weekend 2024.
That weekend, I was attacked on a subway car. A gun was pressed to my forehead. I narrowly escaped, and I believe I was almost shot.
In the weeks that followed, I experienced sudden anger and irritability—symptoms I later learned were tied to PTSD. It unraveled so much of the progress I had made. In a matter of minutes, I lost friendships that took years to build.
I was told that everyone has problems, to shut up, and to get a therapist. What hurt the most was that one of the main people involved—someone who showed no sympathy—is a YouTuber whose platform centers on equality and acceptance. Around the same time I was struggling, they were creating content to raise awareness for the autism community. It was hard to process how someone could publicly advocate for understanding, yet privately dismiss me when my PTSD became inconvenient.
I spent much of 2025 wrestling with this. I cared deeply about this person, and being discarded so easily broke me. In July 2025, I almost took my own life. I snuck into a building in Hell’s Kitchen and stood on a ledge for about an hour. I don’t know what made me step back, but I did.
Two months later, I took these photos. My high school friend Nick picked Jesse and me up, and we drove to the coastline. Nothing was planned—we expected an overcast sky, something perfect for black and white. But the clouds parted. The sky filled with color. A rainbow appeared.
Standing there with Jesse and my longtime friend Nick, witnessing that moment together… I’m still at a loss for words.
I shot this back in September. I’ve been holding onto this set for months because that day was an emotional whirlwind, and I wanted to put my thoughts into words before sharing it.
In 2022, I opened up about how being autistic makes it difficult for me to communicate, manage anxiety, and maintain friendships. I was tired of being misunderstood, tired of burning bridges, and tired of feeling alone. I wanted to find people who truly understood me.
For the next two years, I worked on myself—and I did find those people. For the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. But everything changed on Halloween weekend 2024.
That weekend, I was attacked on a subway car. A gun was pressed to my forehead. I narrowly escaped, and I believe I was almost shot.
In the weeks that followed, I experienced sudden anger and irritability—symptoms I later learned were tied to PTSD. It unraveled so much of the progress I had made. In a matter of minutes, I lost friendships that took years to build.
I was told that everyone has problems, to shut up, and to get a therapist. What hurt the most was that one of the main people involved—someone who showed no sympathy—is a YouTuber whose platform centers on equality and acceptance. Around the same time I was struggling, they were creating content to raise awareness for the autism community. It was hard to process how someone could publicly advocate for understanding, yet privately dismiss me when my PTSD became inconvenient.
I spent much of 2025 wrestling with this. I cared deeply about this person, and being discarded so easily broke me. In July 2025, I almost took my own life. I snuck into a building in Hell’s Kitchen and stood on a ledge for about an hour. I don’t know what made me step back, but I did.
Two months later, I took these photos. My high school friend Nick picked Jesse and me up, and we drove to the coastline. Nothing was planned—we expected an overcast sky, something perfect for black and white. But the clouds parted. The sky filled with color. A rainbow appeared.
Standing there with Jesse and my longtime friend Nick, witnessing that moment together… I’m still at a loss for words.
I shot this back in September. I’ve been holding onto this set for months because that day was an emotional whirlwind, and I wanted to put my thoughts into words before sharing it.
In 2022, I opened up about how being autistic makes it difficult for me to communicate, manage anxiety, and maintain friendships. I was tired of being misunderstood, tired of burning bridges, and tired of feeling alone. I wanted to find people who truly understood me.
For the next two years, I worked on myself—and I did find those people. For the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. But everything changed on Halloween weekend 2024.
That weekend, I was attacked on a subway car. A gun was pressed to my forehead. I narrowly escaped, and I believe I was almost shot.
In the weeks that followed, I experienced sudden anger and irritability—symptoms I later learned were tied to PTSD. It unraveled so much of the progress I had made. In a matter of minutes, I lost friendships that took years to build.
I was told that everyone has problems, to shut up, and to get a therapist. What hurt the most was that one of the main people involved—someone who showed no sympathy—is a YouTuber whose platform centers on equality and acceptance. Around the same time I was struggling, they were creating content to raise awareness for the autism community. It was hard to process how someone could publicly advocate for understanding, yet privately dismiss me when my PTSD became inconvenient.
I spent much of 2025 wrestling with this. I cared deeply about this person, and being discarded so easily broke me. In July 2025, I almost took my own life. I snuck into a building in Hell’s Kitchen and stood on a ledge for about an hour. I don’t know what made me step back, but I did.
Two months later, I took these photos. My high school friend Nick picked Jesse and me up, and we drove to the coastline. Nothing was planned—we expected an overcast sky, something perfect for black and white. But the clouds parted. The sky filled with color. A rainbow appeared.
Standing there with Jesse and my longtime friend Nick, witnessing that moment together… I’m still at a loss for words.
I shot this back in September. I’ve been holding onto this set for months because that day was an emotional whirlwind, and I wanted to put my thoughts into words before sharing it.
In 2022, I opened up about how being autistic makes it difficult for me to communicate, manage anxiety, and maintain friendships. I was tired of being misunderstood, tired of burning bridges, and tired of feeling alone. I wanted to find people who truly understood me.
For the next two years, I worked on myself—and I did find those people. For the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. But everything changed on Halloween weekend 2024.
That weekend, I was attacked on a subway car. A gun was pressed to my forehead. I narrowly escaped, and I believe I was almost shot.
In the weeks that followed, I experienced sudden anger and irritability—symptoms I later learned were tied to PTSD. It unraveled so much of the progress I had made. In a matter of minutes, I lost friendships that took years to build.
I was told that everyone has problems, to shut up, and to get a therapist. What hurt the most was that one of the main people involved—someone who showed no sympathy—is a YouTuber whose platform centers on equality and acceptance. Around the same time I was struggling, they were creating content to raise awareness for the autism community. It was hard to process how someone could publicly advocate for understanding, yet privately dismiss me when my PTSD became inconvenient.
I spent much of 2025 wrestling with this. I cared deeply about this person, and being discarded so easily broke me. In July 2025, I almost took my own life. I snuck into a building in Hell’s Kitchen and stood on a ledge for about an hour. I don’t know what made me step back, but I did.
Two months later, I took these photos. My high school friend Nick picked Jesse and me up, and we drove to the coastline. Nothing was planned—we expected an overcast sky, something perfect for black and white. But the clouds parted. The sky filled with color. A rainbow appeared.
Standing there with Jesse and my longtime friend Nick, witnessing that moment together… I’m still at a loss for words.
I shot this back in September. I’ve been holding onto this set for months because that day was an emotional whirlwind, and I wanted to put my thoughts into words before sharing it.
In 2022, I opened up about how being autistic makes it difficult for me to communicate, manage anxiety, and maintain friendships. I was tired of being misunderstood, tired of burning bridges, and tired of feeling alone. I wanted to find people who truly understood me.
For the next two years, I worked on myself—and I did find those people. For the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. But everything changed on Halloween weekend 2024.
That weekend, I was attacked on a subway car. A gun was pressed to my forehead. I narrowly escaped, and I believe I was almost shot.
In the weeks that followed, I experienced sudden anger and irritability—symptoms I later learned were tied to PTSD. It unraveled so much of the progress I had made. In a matter of minutes, I lost friendships that took years to build.
I was told that everyone has problems, to shut up, and to get a therapist. What hurt the most was that one of the main people involved—someone who showed no sympathy—is a YouTuber whose platform centers on equality and acceptance. Around the same time I was struggling, they were creating content to raise awareness for the autism community. It was hard to process how someone could publicly advocate for understanding, yet privately dismiss me when my PTSD became inconvenient.
I spent much of 2025 wrestling with this. I cared deeply about this person, and being discarded so easily broke me. In July 2025, I almost took my own life. I snuck into a building in Hell’s Kitchen and stood on a ledge for about an hour. I don’t know what made me step back, but I did.
Two months later, I took these photos. My high school friend Nick picked Jesse and me up, and we drove to the coastline. Nothing was planned—we expected an overcast sky, something perfect for black and white. But the clouds parted. The sky filled with color. A rainbow appeared.
Standing there with Jesse and my longtime friend Nick, witnessing that moment together… I’m still at a loss for words.
I shot this back in September. I’ve been holding onto this set for months because that day was an emotional whirlwind, and I wanted to put my thoughts into words before sharing it.
In 2022, I opened up about how being autistic makes it difficult for me to communicate, manage anxiety, and maintain friendships. I was tired of being misunderstood, tired of burning bridges, and tired of feeling alone. I wanted to find people who truly understood me.
For the next two years, I worked on myself—and I did find those people. For the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. But everything changed on Halloween weekend 2024.
That weekend, I was attacked on a subway car. A gun was pressed to my forehead. I narrowly escaped, and I believe I was almost shot.
In the weeks that followed, I experienced sudden anger and irritability—symptoms I later learned were tied to PTSD. It unraveled so much of the progress I had made. In a matter of minutes, I lost friendships that took years to build.
I was told that everyone has problems, to shut up, and to get a therapist. What hurt the most was that one of the main people involved—someone who showed no sympathy—is a YouTuber whose platform centers on equality and acceptance. Around the same time I was struggling, they were creating content to raise awareness for the autism community. It was hard to process how someone could publicly advocate for understanding, yet privately dismiss me when my PTSD became inconvenient.
I spent much of 2025 wrestling with this. I cared deeply about this person, and being discarded so easily broke me. In July 2025, I almost took my own life. I snuck into a building in Hell’s Kitchen and stood on a ledge for about an hour. I don’t know what made me step back, but I did.
Two months later, I took these photos. My high school friend Nick picked Jesse and me up, and we drove to the coastline. Nothing was planned—we expected an overcast sky, something perfect for black and white. But the clouds parted. The sky filled with color. A rainbow appeared.
Standing there with Jesse and my longtime friend Nick, witnessing that moment together… I’m still at a loss for words.
I shot this back in September. I’ve been holding onto this set for months because that day was an emotional whirlwind, and I wanted to put my thoughts into words before sharing it.
In 2022, I opened up about how being autistic makes it difficult for me to communicate, manage anxiety, and maintain friendships. I was tired of being misunderstood, tired of burning bridges, and tired of feeling alone. I wanted to find people who truly understood me.
For the next two years, I worked on myself—and I did find those people. For the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. But everything changed on Halloween weekend 2024.
That weekend, I was attacked on a subway car. A gun was pressed to my forehead. I narrowly escaped, and I believe I was almost shot.
In the weeks that followed, I experienced sudden anger and irritability—symptoms I later learned were tied to PTSD. It unraveled so much of the progress I had made. In a matter of minutes, I lost friendships that took years to build.
I was told that everyone has problems, to shut up, and to get a therapist. What hurt the most was that one of the main people involved—someone who showed no sympathy—is a YouTuber whose platform centers on equality and acceptance. Around the same time I was struggling, they were creating content to raise awareness for the autism community. It was hard to process how someone could publicly advocate for understanding, yet privately dismiss me when my PTSD became inconvenient.
I spent much of 2025 wrestling with this. I cared deeply about this person, and being discarded so easily broke me. In July 2025, I almost took my own life. I snuck into a building in Hell’s Kitchen and stood on a ledge for about an hour. I don’t know what made me step back, but I did.
Two months later, I took these photos. My high school friend Nick picked Jesse and me up, and we drove to the coastline. Nothing was planned—we expected an overcast sky, something perfect for black and white. But the clouds parted. The sky filled with color. A rainbow appeared.
Standing there with Jesse and my longtime friend Nick, witnessing that moment together… I’m still at a loss for words.
I shot this back in September. I’ve been holding onto this set for months because that day was an emotional whirlwind, and I wanted to put my thoughts into words before sharing it.
In 2022, I opened up about how being autistic makes it difficult for me to communicate, manage anxiety, and maintain friendships. I was tired of being misunderstood, tired of burning bridges, and tired of feeling alone. I wanted to find people who truly understood me.
For the next two years, I worked on myself—and I did find those people. For the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. But everything changed on Halloween weekend 2024.
That weekend, I was attacked on a subway car. A gun was pressed to my forehead. I narrowly escaped, and I believe I was almost shot.
In the weeks that followed, I experienced sudden anger and irritability—symptoms I later learned were tied to PTSD. It unraveled so much of the progress I had made. In a matter of minutes, I lost friendships that took years to build.
I was told that everyone has problems, to shut up, and to get a therapist. What hurt the most was that one of the main people involved—someone who showed no sympathy—is a YouTuber whose platform centers on equality and acceptance. Around the same time I was struggling, they were creating content to raise awareness for the autism community. It was hard to process how someone could publicly advocate for understanding, yet privately dismiss me when my PTSD became inconvenient.
I spent much of 2025 wrestling with this. I cared deeply about this person, and being discarded so easily broke me. In July 2025, I almost took my own life. I snuck into a building in Hell’s Kitchen and stood on a ledge for about an hour. I don’t know what made me step back, but I did.
Two months later, I took these photos. My high school friend Nick picked Jesse and me up, and we drove to the coastline. Nothing was planned—we expected an overcast sky, something perfect for black and white. But the clouds parted. The sky filled with color. A rainbow appeared.
Standing there with Jesse and my longtime friend Nick, witnessing that moment together… I’m still at a loss for words.
I shot this back in September. I’ve been holding onto this set for months because that day was an emotional whirlwind, and I wanted to put my thoughts into words before sharing it.
In 2022, I opened up about how being autistic makes it difficult for me to communicate, manage anxiety, and maintain friendships. I was tired of being misunderstood, tired of burning bridges, and tired of feeling alone. I wanted to find people who truly understood me.
For the next two years, I worked on myself—and I did find those people. For the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. But everything changed on Halloween weekend 2024.
That weekend, I was attacked on a subway car. A gun was pressed to my forehead. I narrowly escaped, and I believe I was almost shot.
In the weeks that followed, I experienced sudden anger and irritability—symptoms I later learned were tied to PTSD. It unraveled so much of the progress I had made. In a matter of minutes, I lost friendships that took years to build.
I was told that everyone has problems, to shut up, and to get a therapist. What hurt the most was that one of the main people involved—someone who showed no sympathy—is a YouTuber whose platform centers on equality and acceptance. Around the same time I was struggling, they were creating content to raise awareness for the autism community. It was hard to process how someone could publicly advocate for understanding, yet privately dismiss me when my PTSD became inconvenient.
I spent much of 2025 wrestling with this. I cared deeply about this person, and being discarded so easily broke me. In July 2025, I almost took my own life. I snuck into a building in Hell’s Kitchen and stood on a ledge for about an hour. I don’t know what made me step back, but I did.
Two months later, I took these photos. My high school friend Nick picked Jesse and me up, and we drove to the coastline. Nothing was planned—we expected an overcast sky, something perfect for black and white. But the clouds parted. The sky filled with color. A rainbow appeared.
Standing there with Jesse and my longtime friend Nick, witnessing that moment together… I’m still at a loss for words.
I shot this back in September. I’ve been holding onto this set for months because that day was an emotional whirlwind, and I wanted to put my thoughts into words before sharing it.
In 2022, I opened up about how being autistic makes it difficult for me to communicate, manage anxiety, and maintain friendships. I was tired of being misunderstood, tired of burning bridges, and tired of feeling alone. I wanted to find people who truly understood me.
For the next two years, I worked on myself—and I did find those people. For the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. But everything changed on Halloween weekend 2024.
That weekend, I was attacked on a subway car. A gun was pressed to my forehead. I narrowly escaped, and I believe I was almost shot.
In the weeks that followed, I experienced sudden anger and irritability—symptoms I later learned were tied to PTSD. It unraveled so much of the progress I had made. In a matter of minutes, I lost friendships that took years to build.
I was told that everyone has problems, to shut up, and to get a therapist. What hurt the most was that one of the main people involved—someone who showed no sympathy—is a YouTuber whose platform centers on equality and acceptance. Around the same time I was struggling, they were creating content to raise awareness for the autism community. It was hard to process how someone could publicly advocate for understanding, yet privately dismiss me when my PTSD became inconvenient.
I spent much of 2025 wrestling with this. I cared deeply about this person, and being discarded so easily broke me. In July 2025, I almost took my own life. I snuck into a building in Hell’s Kitchen and stood on a ledge for about an hour. I don’t know what made me step back, but I did.
Two months later, I took these photos. My high school friend Nick picked Jesse and me up, and we drove to the coastline. Nothing was planned—we expected an overcast sky, something perfect for black and white. But the clouds parted. The sky filled with color. A rainbow appeared.
Standing there with Jesse and my longtime friend Nick, witnessing that moment together… I’m still at a loss for words.
I shot this back in September. I’ve been holding onto this set for months because that day was an emotional whirlwind, and I wanted to put my thoughts into words before sharing it.
In 2022, I opened up about how being autistic makes it difficult for me to communicate, manage anxiety, and maintain friendships. I was tired of being misunderstood, tired of burning bridges, and tired of feeling alone. I wanted to find people who truly understood me.
For the next two years, I worked on myself—and I did find those people. For the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. But everything changed on Halloween weekend 2024.
That weekend, I was attacked on a subway car. A gun was pressed to my forehead. I narrowly escaped, and I believe I was almost shot.
In the weeks that followed, I experienced sudden anger and irritability—symptoms I later learned were tied to PTSD. It unraveled so much of the progress I had made. In a matter of minutes, I lost friendships that took years to build.
I was told that everyone has problems, to shut up, and to get a therapist. What hurt the most was that one of the main people involved—someone who showed no sympathy—is a YouTuber whose platform centers on equality and acceptance. Around the same time I was struggling, they were creating content to raise awareness for the autism community. It was hard to process how someone could publicly advocate for understanding, yet privately dismiss me when my PTSD became inconvenient.
I spent much of 2025 wrestling with this. I cared deeply about this person, and being discarded so easily broke me. In July 2025, I almost took my own life. I snuck into a building in Hell’s Kitchen and stood on a ledge for about an hour. I don’t know what made me step back, but I did.
Two months later, I took these photos. My high school friend Nick picked Jesse and me up, and we drove to the coastline. Nothing was planned—we expected an overcast sky, something perfect for black and white. But the clouds parted. The sky filled with color. A rainbow appeared.
Standing there with Jesse and my longtime friend Nick, witnessing that moment together… I’m still at a loss for words.
I shot this back in September. I’ve been holding onto this set for months because that day was an emotional whirlwind, and I wanted to put my thoughts into words before sharing it.
In 2022, I opened up about how being autistic makes it difficult for me to communicate, manage anxiety, and maintain friendships. I was tired of being misunderstood, tired of burning bridges, and tired of feeling alone. I wanted to find people who truly understood me.
For the next two years, I worked on myself—and I did find those people. For the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. But everything changed on Halloween weekend 2024.
That weekend, I was attacked on a subway car. A gun was pressed to my forehead. I narrowly escaped, and I believe I was almost shot.
In the weeks that followed, I experienced sudden anger and irritability—symptoms I later learned were tied to PTSD. It unraveled so much of the progress I had made. In a matter of minutes, I lost friendships that took years to build.
I was told that everyone has problems, to shut up, and to get a therapist. What hurt the most was that one of the main people involved—someone who showed no sympathy—is a YouTuber whose platform centers on equality and acceptance. Around the same time I was struggling, they were creating content to raise awareness for the autism community. It was hard to process how someone could publicly advocate for understanding, yet privately dismiss me when my PTSD became inconvenient.
I spent much of 2025 wrestling with this. I cared deeply about this person, and being discarded so easily broke me. In July 2025, I almost took my own life. I snuck into a building in Hell’s Kitchen and stood on a ledge for about an hour. I don’t know what made me step back, but I did.
Two months later, I took these photos. My high school friend Nick picked Jesse and me up, and we drove to the coastline. Nothing was planned—we expected an overcast sky, something perfect for black and white. But the clouds parted. The sky filled with color. A rainbow appeared.
Standing there with Jesse and my longtime friend Nick, witnessing that moment together… I’m still at a loss for words.
I shot this back in September. I’ve been holding onto this set for months because that day was an emotional whirlwind, and I wanted to put my thoughts into words before sharing it.
In 2022, I opened up about how being autistic makes it difficult for me to communicate, manage anxiety, and maintain friendships. I was tired of being misunderstood, tired of burning bridges, and tired of feeling alone. I wanted to find people who truly understood me.
For the next two years, I worked on myself—and I did find those people. For the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. But everything changed on Halloween weekend 2024.
That weekend, I was attacked on a subway car. A gun was pressed to my forehead. I narrowly escaped, and I believe I was almost shot.
In the weeks that followed, I experienced sudden anger and irritability—symptoms I later learned were tied to PTSD. It unraveled so much of the progress I had made. In a matter of minutes, I lost friendships that took years to build.
I was told that everyone has problems, to shut up, and to get a therapist. What hurt the most was that one of the main people involved—someone who showed no sympathy—is a YouTuber whose platform centers on equality and acceptance. Around the same time I was struggling, they were creating content to raise awareness for the autism community. It was hard to process how someone could publicly advocate for understanding, yet privately dismiss me when my PTSD became inconvenient.
I spent much of 2025 wrestling with this. I cared deeply about this person, and being discarded so easily broke me. In July 2025, I almost took my own life. I snuck into a building in Hell’s Kitchen and stood on a ledge for about an hour. I don’t know what made me step back, but I did.
Two months later, I took these photos. My high school friend Nick picked Jesse and me up, and we drove to the coastline. Nothing was planned—we expected an overcast sky, something perfect for black and white. But the clouds parted. The sky filled with color. A rainbow appeared.
Standing there with Jesse and my longtime friend Nick, witnessing that moment together… I’m still at a loss for words.
I shot this back in September. I’ve been holding onto this set for months because that day was an emotional whirlwind, and I wanted to put my thoughts into words before sharing it.
In 2022, I opened up about how being autistic makes it difficult for me to communicate, manage anxiety, and maintain friendships. I was tired of being misunderstood, tired of burning bridges, and tired of feeling alone. I wanted to find people who truly understood me.
For the next two years, I worked on myself—and I did find those people. For the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. But everything changed on Halloween weekend 2024.
That weekend, I was attacked on a subway car. A gun was pressed to my forehead. I narrowly escaped, and I believe I was almost shot.
In the weeks that followed, I experienced sudden anger and irritability—symptoms I later learned were tied to PTSD. It unraveled so much of the progress I had made. In a matter of minutes, I lost friendships that took years to build.
I was told that everyone has problems, to shut up, and to get a therapist. What hurt the most was that one of the main people involved—someone who showed no sympathy—is a YouTuber whose platform centers on equality and acceptance. Around the same time I was struggling, they were creating content to raise awareness for the autism community. It was hard to process how someone could publicly advocate for understanding, yet privately dismiss me when my PTSD became inconvenient.
I spent much of 2025 wrestling with this. I cared deeply about this person, and being discarded so easily broke me. In July 2025, I almost took my own life. I snuck into a building in Hell’s Kitchen and stood on a ledge for about an hour. I don’t know what made me step back, but I did.
Two months later, I took these photos. My high school friend Nick picked Jesse and me up, and we drove to the coastline. Nothing was planned—we expected an overcast sky, something perfect for black and white. But the clouds parted. The sky filled with color. A rainbow appeared.
Standing there with Jesse and my longtime friend Nick, witnessing that moment together… I’m still at a loss for words.
I shot this back in September. I’ve been holding onto this set for months because that day was an emotional whirlwind, and I wanted to put my thoughts into words before sharing it.
In 2022, I opened up about how being autistic makes it difficult for me to communicate, manage anxiety, and maintain friendships. I was tired of being misunderstood, tired of burning bridges, and tired of feeling alone. I wanted to find people who truly understood me.
For the next two years, I worked on myself—and I did find those people. For the first time in a long time, I felt accepted. But everything changed on Halloween weekend 2024.
That weekend, I was attacked on a subway car. A gun was pressed to my forehead. I narrowly escaped, and I believe I was almost shot.
In the weeks that followed, I experienced sudden anger and irritability—symptoms I later learned were tied to PTSD. It unraveled so much of the progress I had made. In a matter of minutes, I lost friendships that took years to build.
I was told that everyone has problems, to shut up, and to get a therapist. What hurt the most was that one of the main people involved—someone who showed no sympathy—is a YouTuber whose platform centers on equality and acceptance. Around the same time I was struggling, they were creating content to raise awareness for the autism community. It was hard to process how someone could publicly advocate for understanding, yet privately dismiss me when my PTSD became inconvenient.
I spent much of 2025 wrestling with this. I cared deeply about this person, and being discarded so easily broke me. In July 2025, I almost took my own life. I snuck into a building in Hell’s Kitchen and stood on a ledge for about an hour. I don’t know what made me step back, but I did.
Two months later, I took these photos. My high school friend Nick picked Jesse and me up, and we drove to the coastline. Nothing was planned—we expected an overcast sky, something perfect for black and white. But the clouds parted. The sky filled with color. A rainbow appeared.
Standing there with Jesse and my longtime friend Nick, witnessing that moment together… I’m still at a loss for words.
Bottling it up.
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.
.
.
.
.
#photography #nycphotographer #dancephotography #blackandwhitephotography #blackandwhite #queens #portraitphotography #moodygrams #moodyports #portraitpage #insomniamag #littlerivermag #777luckyfish #weshoothumans #nikon #nikonphotography #moodyportrait #moodphotography
Bottling it up.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
#photography #nycphotographer #dancephotography #blackandwhitephotography #blackandwhite #queens #portraitphotography #moodygrams #moodyports #portraitpage #insomniamag #littlerivermag #777luckyfish #weshoothumans #nikon #nikonphotography #moodyportrait #moodphotography
Bottling it up.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
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#photography #nycphotographer #dancephotography #blackandwhitephotography #blackandwhite #queens #portraitphotography #moodygrams #moodyports #portraitpage #insomniamag #littlerivermag #777luckyfish #weshoothumans #nikon #nikonphotography #moodyportrait #moodphotography
Bottling it up.
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#photography #nycphotographer #dancephotography #blackandwhitephotography #blackandwhite #queens #portraitphotography #moodygrams #moodyports #portraitpage #insomniamag #littlerivermag #777luckyfish #weshoothumans #nikon #nikonphotography #moodyportrait #moodphotography
Bottling it up.
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#photography #nycphotographer #dancephotography #blackandwhitephotography #blackandwhite #queens #portraitphotography #moodygrams #moodyports #portraitpage #insomniamag #littlerivermag #777luckyfish #weshoothumans #nikon #nikonphotography #moodyportrait #moodphotography
Bottling it up.
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#photography #nycphotographer #dancephotography #blackandwhitephotography #blackandwhite #queens #portraitphotography #moodygrams #moodyports #portraitpage #insomniamag #littlerivermag #777luckyfish #weshoothumans #nikon #nikonphotography #moodyportrait #moodphotography
Bottling it up.
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#photography #nycphotographer #dancephotography #blackandwhitephotography #blackandwhite #queens #portraitphotography #moodygrams #moodyports #portraitpage #insomniamag #littlerivermag #777luckyfish #weshoothumans #nikon #nikonphotography #moodyportrait #moodphotography
Bottling it up.
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#photography #nycphotographer #dancephotography #blackandwhitephotography #blackandwhite #queens #portraitphotography #moodygrams #moodyports #portraitpage #insomniamag #littlerivermag #777luckyfish #weshoothumans #nikon #nikonphotography #moodyportrait #moodphotography
Bottling it up.
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#photography #nycphotographer #dancephotography #blackandwhitephotography #blackandwhite #queens #portraitphotography #moodygrams #moodyports #portraitpage #insomniamag #littlerivermag #777luckyfish #weshoothumans #nikon #nikonphotography #moodyportrait #moodphotography
Bottling it up.
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#photography #nycphotographer #dancephotography #blackandwhitephotography #blackandwhite #queens #portraitphotography #moodygrams #moodyports #portraitpage #insomniamag #littlerivermag #777luckyfish #weshoothumans #nikon #nikonphotography #moodyportrait #moodphotography
The winning shot of SGM’s first photo competition.
By David Rauch-Bautista! Congratulations!@drbmemory
"Two months before capturing that image, I almost took my own life due to a personal circumstance. In that dark moment in July 2025 I was inches away to jumping off a rooftop in midtown manhattan, and as a split millisecond decision I decided to climb back down.
I’m grateful that I got shot with the bagpipe player Jesse Mooney who’s an incredibly multi talented artist with such a big heart, I’m grateful I got to bring my long time friend Nick Taylor as my photography assistant/driver that day without him we would have not made it to the Montauk coastline before sundown, I’m grateful to experience the unplanned surprise of watching the coastline clouds part in real time after a thunderstorm and see vibrant skyline hues of orange and purple and even experiencing a rainbow, I’m grateful for the opportunity to be the inaugural winner of your weekly contest, and I’m grateful to be alive."
Make sure to check out David’s profile and website for more incredible work!
Thank you to everyone who submitted! Looking forward to seeing next week’s entries! Deadline April 5th!
#potography #photographycontest
In Frame : @eranine
Photo Assistant : @christnokeefe
Handmade Dress by @mothapparell
Pink Satin Slingback Pumps by @miumiu
Sliver Balisong Necklace by @elitaemporium
In Frame : @eranine
Photo Assistant : @christnokeefe
Handmade Dress by @mothapparell
Pink Satin Slingback Pumps by @miumiu
Sliver Balisong Necklace by @elitaemporium
In Frame : @eranine
Photo Assistant : @christnokeefe
Handmade Dress by @mothapparell
Pink Satin Slingback Pumps by @miumiu
Sliver Balisong Necklace by @elitaemporium
In Frame : @eranine
Photo Assistant : @christnokeefe
Handmade Dress by @mothapparell
Pink Satin Slingback Pumps by @miumiu
Sliver Balisong Necklace by @elitaemporium
In Frame : @eranine
Photo Assistant : @christnokeefe
Handmade Dress by @mothapparell
Pink Satin Slingback Pumps by @miumiu
Sliver Balisong Necklace by @elitaemporium
In Frame : @eranine
Photo Assistant : @christnokeefe
Handmade Dress by @mothapparell
Pink Satin Slingback Pumps by @miumiu
Sliver Balisong Necklace by @elitaemporium
Instagram Stories geheim ansehen
Der Instagram Story Viewer ist ein einfaches Tool, mit dem Sie Instagram Stories, Videos, Fotos oder IGTV heimlich ansehen und speichern können. Mit diesem Service können Sie Inhalte herunterladen und offline genießen, wann immer Sie möchten. Wenn Sie etwas Interessantes auf Instagram finden, das Sie später überprüfen möchten, oder Stories anonym ansehen möchten, ist unser Viewer ideal für Sie. Anonstories bietet eine ausgezeichnete Lösung, um Ihre Identität zu schützen. Instagram hat die Stories-Funktion erstmals im August 2023 eingeführt, die schnell auch von anderen Plattformen übernommen wurde, dank ihres fesselnden, zeitlich begrenzten Formats. Stories ermöglichen es Nutzern, schnelle Updates zu teilen, sei es Fotos, Videos oder Selfies, ergänzt durch Text, Emojis oder Filter, und sind nur 24 Stunden lang sichtbar. Dieser begrenzte Zeitrahmen sorgt für eine hohe Interaktion im Vergleich zu regulären Posts. Heutzutage sind Stories eine der beliebtesten Methoden, um sich in sozialen Medien zu verbinden und zu kommunizieren. Wenn Sie jedoch eine Story ansehen, kann der Ersteller Ihren Namen in seiner Viewer-Liste sehen, was ein Problem für die Privatsphäre sein kann. Was ist, wenn Sie Stories durchsuchen möchten, ohne bemerkt zu werden? Hier wird Anonstories nützlich. Es ermöglicht Ihnen, öffentliche Instagram-Inhalte anzusehen, ohne Ihre Identität preiszugeben. Geben Sie einfach den Benutzernamen des Profils ein, das Sie interessiert, und das Tool zeigt dessen neueste Stories an. Funktionen des Anonstories Viewers: - Anonymes Browsen: Sehen Sie Stories, ohne in der Viewer-Liste zu erscheinen. - Kein Konto erforderlich: Sehen Sie öffentliche Inhalte, ohne ein Instagram-Konto zu erstellen. - Inhalte herunterladen: Speichern Sie beliebige Story-Inhalte direkt auf Ihrem Gerät für die Offline-Nutzung. - Highlights anzeigen: Greifen Sie auf Instagram-Highlights zu, auch über das 24-Stunden-Fenster hinaus. - Repost-Überwachung: Verfolgen Sie Reposts oder Interaktionen bei Stories für persönliche Profile. Einschränkungen: - Dieses Tool funktioniert nur mit öffentlichen Accounts; private Accounts bleiben unzugänglich. Vorteile: - Datenschutzfreundlich: Sehen Sie sich beliebige Instagram-Inhalte an, ohne bemerkt zu werden. - Einfach und unkompliziert: Keine App-Installation oder Registrierung erforderlich. - Exklusive Tools: Laden Sie Inhalte herunter und verwalten Sie sie auf eine Weise, die Instagram nicht bietet.
Vorteile von Anonstories
IG Stories privat entdecken
Behalten Sie Instagram-Updates diskret im Blick, schützen Sie Ihre Privatsphäre und bleiben Sie anonym.
Privater Instagram Viewer
Sehen Sie Profile und Fotos anonym an, ganz einfach mit dem Private Profile Viewer.
Kostenloser Story Viewer
Dieses kostenlose Tool ermöglicht es Ihnen, Instagram Stories anonym anzusehen und dabei Ihre Aktivität vor dem Story-Ersteller zu verbergen.
Häufig gestellte Fragen
Anonymität
Anonstories ermöglicht es Nutzern, Instagram-Stories anzusehen, ohne den Ersteller zu benachrichtigen.
Gerätekompatibilität
Funktioniert nahtlos auf iOS, Android, Windows, macOS und modernen Browsern wie Chrome und Safari.
Sicherheit und Datenschutz
Priorisiert sicheres, anonymes Browsen, ohne Login-Daten zu benötigen.
Keine Registrierung
Nutzer können öffentliche Stories ansehen, indem sie einfach einen Benutzernamen eingeben – kein Konto erforderlich.
Unterstützte Formate
Lädt Fotos (JPEG) und Videos (MP4) mühelos herunter.
Kosten
Der Dienst ist kostenlos nutzbar.
Private Accounts
Inhalte von privaten Accounts sind nur für Follower zugänglich.
Dateiverwendung
Dateien sind nur für persönliche oder Bildungszwecke und müssen Urheberrechtsregeln entsprechen.
Wie es funktioniert
Geben Sie einen öffentlichen Benutzernamen ein, um Stories anzusehen oder herunterzuladen. Der Dienst generiert direkte Links, um Inhalte lokal zu speichern.