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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.
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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.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
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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
Voir les histoires Instagram en secret
Le visionneur d’histoires Instagram est un outil simple qui vous permet de regarder et de sauvegarder secrètement les histoires Instagram, vidéos, photos ou IGTV. Avec ce service, vous pouvez télécharger du contenu et l’apprécier hors ligne quand vous voulez. Si vous trouvez quelque chose d’intéressant sur Instagram que vous souhaitez vérifier plus tard ou si vous voulez voir des histoires tout en restant anonyme, notre Visionneur est parfait pour vous. Anonstories offre une excellente solution pour garder votre identité cachée. Instagram a lancé la fonctionnalité Stories en août 2023, rapidement adoptée par d’autres plateformes en raison de son format engageant et temporaire. Les histoires permettent aux utilisateurs de partager des mises à jour rapides, qu’il s’agisse de photos, vidéos ou selfies, agrémentés de texte, emojis ou filtres, visibles pendant 24 heures seulement. Cette fenêtre de temps limitée crée un fort engagement par rapport aux publications régulières. Aujourd’hui, les histoires sont l’un des moyens les plus populaires de se connecter et de communiquer sur les réseaux sociaux. Cependant, lorsque vous regardez une histoire, le créateur peut voir votre nom dans leur liste de visionneurs, ce qui peut poser un problème de confidentialité. Et si vous souhaitez naviguer dans les histoires sans être repéré ? C’est là qu’Anonstories devient utile. Il vous permet de regarder du contenu public sur Instagram sans révéler votre identité. Il vous suffit d’entrer le nom d’utilisateur du profil qui vous intéresse, et l’outil affichera ses dernières histoires. Fonctionnalités du visionneur Anonstories : - Navigation anonyme : Regardez des histoires sans apparaître dans la liste des visionneurs. - Aucun compte requis : Regardez du contenu public sans vous inscrire à un compte Instagram. - Téléchargement de contenu : Sauvegardez directement du contenu d’histoires sur votre appareil pour une utilisation hors ligne. - Voir les highlights : Accédez aux Highlights Instagram, même après la période de 24 heures. - Suivi des reposts : Suivez les reposts ou l’engagement sur les histoires des profils personnels. Limitations : - Cet outil fonctionne uniquement avec les comptes publics ; les comptes privés restent inaccessibles. Avantages : - Respect de la vie privée : Regardez n’importe quel contenu Instagram sans être repéré. - Simple et facile : Aucune installation d’application ni inscription requise. - Outils exclusifs : Téléchargez et gérez du contenu de manière que Instagram ne permet pas.
Avantages d’Anonstories
Explorer les histoires IG discrètement
Suivez les mises à jour Instagram en toute discrétion tout en protégeant votre vie privée et en restant anonyme.
Visionneur privé Instagram
Consultez les profils et photos anonymement avec aisance grâce au visionneur de profil privé.
Visionneur d’histoires gratuit
Ce service gratuit vous permet de voir les histoires Instagram anonymement, garantissant que votre activité reste cachée de l’uploader.
Questions fréquemment posées
Anonymat
Anonstories permet aux utilisateurs de voir les histoires Instagram sans alerter le créateur.
Compatibilité des appareils
Fonctionne parfaitement sur iOS, Android, Windows, macOS et les navigateurs modernes comme Chrome et Safari.
Sécurité et confidentialité
Privilégie la navigation sécurisée et anonyme sans nécessiter de coordonnées de connexion.
Pas d’inscription
Les utilisateurs peuvent voir des histoires publiques en entrant simplement un nom d’utilisateur — sans compte requis.
Formats pris en charge
Télécharge les photos (JPEG) et les vidéos (MP4) facilement.
Coût
Le service est gratuit.
Comptes privés
Le contenu des comptes privés n’est accessible qu’aux abonnés.
Utilisation des fichiers
Les fichiers sont destinés à un usage personnel ou éducatif uniquement et doivent respecter les règles de droit d’auteur.
Comment ça marche
Entrez un nom d’utilisateur public pour voir ou télécharger des histoires. Le service génère des liens directs pour sauvegarder le contenu localement.