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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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.
.
.
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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
Ver Historias de Instagram en Secreto
El Instagram Story Viewer es una herramienta sencilla que te permite ver y guardar en secreto historias, videos, fotos o IGTV de Instagram. Con este servicio, puedes descargar contenido y disfrutarlo sin conexión cuando lo desees. Si encuentras algo interesante en Instagram que quieras revisar más tarde o si prefieres ver historias de forma anónima, nuestro visor es perfecto para ti. Anonstories ofrece una excelente solución para mantener tu identidad oculta. Instagram lanzó la función de Historias en agosto de 2023, adoptada rápidamente por otras plataformas debido a su formato dinámico y temporal. Las Historias permiten a los usuarios compartir actualizaciones rápidas, como fotos, videos o selfies, mejoradas con texto, emojis o filtros, y son visibles por solo 24 horas. Este marco de tiempo limitado genera un alto compromiso en comparación con las publicaciones regulares. En el mundo actual, las Historias son una de las formas más populares de conectar y comunicarse en redes sociales. Sin embargo, al ver una Historia, el creador puede ver tu nombre en su lista de visualizaciones, lo cual puede ser una preocupación de privacidad. ¿Qué hacer si deseas explorar Historias sin ser detectado? Aquí es donde Anonstories resulta útil. Te permite ver contenido público de Instagram sin revelar tu identidad. Simplemente ingresa el nombre de usuario del perfil que te interesa, y la herramienta mostrará sus Historias más recientes. Funciones de Anonstories Viewer: - Navegación anónima: Mira Historias sin aparecer en la lista de visualizaciones. - Sin cuenta requerida: Ve contenido público sin necesidad de registrarte en Instagram. - Descarga de contenido: Guarda cualquier Historia directamente en tu dispositivo para usarla sin conexión. - Ver Destacados: Accede a Destacados de Instagram, incluso fuera del período de 24 horas. - Monitoreo de reposts: Rastrea reposts o niveles de compromiso en Historias de perfiles personales. Limitaciones: - Esta herramienta solo funciona con cuentas públicas; las cuentas privadas permanecen inaccesibles. Beneficios: - Amigable con la privacidad: Mira cualquier contenido de Instagram sin ser detectado. - Fácil y sencillo: Sin instalación de aplicaciones ni registro necesario. - Herramientas exclusivas: Descarga y gestiona contenido de formas que Instagram no ofrece.