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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
비밀리에 인스타그램 스토리 보기
인스타그램 스토리 뷰어는 인스타그램 스토리, 비디오, 사진 또는 IGTV를 비밀리에 보고 저장할 수 있는 간단한 도구입니다. 이 서비스를 통해 콘텐츠를 다운로드하고 언제든지 오프라인으로 즐길 수 있습니다. 인스타그램에서 나중에 확인하고 싶은 흥미로운 콘텐츠를 찾거나 익명으로 스토리를 보고 싶다면, 우리 뷰어가 적합합니다. Anonstories는 신원을 숨길 수 있는 훌륭한 솔루션을 제공합니다. 인스타그램은 2023년 8월에 스토리 기능을 출시했으며, 이 기능은 흥미롭고 시간에 민감한 형식으로 빠르게 다른 플랫폼에 채택되었습니다. 스토리는 사용자가 텍스트, 이모지 또는 필터로 보강된 사진, 비디오 또는 셀카를 공유할 수 있게 해주며, 24시간 동안만 표시됩니다. 이 제한된 시간 동안 높은 참여를 유도하며 일반 게시물보다 더 많은 반응을 얻을 수 있습니다. 오늘날 스토리는 소셜 미디어에서 연결하고 소통하는 가장 인기 있는 방법 중 하나입니다. 그러나 스토리를 볼 때, 제작자는 자신의 뷰어 목록에서 당신의 이름을 볼 수 있으며, 이는 개인 정보 보호에 대한 우려를 일으킬 수 있습니다. 만약 스토리를 아무도 모르게 탐색하고 싶다면? 그때 Anonstories가 유용해집니다. 이 도구는 신원을 드러내지 않고 공개된 인스타그램 콘텐츠를 볼 수 있게 해줍니다. 관심 있는 프로필의 사용자명을 입력하면 해당 프로필의 최신 스토리를 확인할 수 있습니다. Anonstories 뷰어의 특징: - 익명 브라우징: 뷰어 목록에 나타나지 않고 스토리를 볼 수 있습니다. - 계정 필요 없음: 인스타그램 계정에 가입하지 않고 공개 콘텐츠를 볼 수 있습니다. - 콘텐츠 다운로드: 스토리 콘텐츠를 직접 다운로드하여 오프라인에서 사용할 수 있습니다. - 하이라이트 보기: 24시간 제한을 넘어서 인스타그램 하이라이트를 볼 수 있습니다. - 리포스트 모니터링: 개인 프로필의 스토리 리포스트나 참여도를 추적할 수 있습니다. 제한 사항: - 이 도구는 공개 계정에서만 작동하며, 개인 계정은 접근할 수 없습니다. 장점: - 개인 정보 보호 친화적: 인스타그램 콘텐츠를 보면서도 눈에 띄지 않습니다. - 간단하고 쉬움: 앱 설치나 등록이 필요 없습니다. - 독점 도구: 인스타그램에서 제공하지 않는 방식으로 콘텐츠를 다운로드하고 관리할 수 있습니다.
Anonstories의 장점
인스타그램 스토리 비공개로 탐색
인스타그램 업데이트를 비밀리에 추적하고 개인 정보를 보호하며 익명으로 남을 수 있습니다.
개인 인스타그램 뷰어
개인 프로필 뷰어를 사용하여 쉽게 프로필과 사진을 익명으로 볼 수 있습니다.
무료 스토리 뷰어
이 무료 도구는 인스타그램 스토리를 익명으로 볼 수 있게 해주며, 스토리 업로더에게 활동을 숨길 수 있습니다.
자주 묻는 질문
익명성
Anonstories는 사용자가 인스타그램 스토리를 볼 때 제작자에게 알림을 보내지 않도록 합니다.
디바이스 호환성
iOS, Android, Windows, macOS, Chrome, Safari와 같은 최신 브라우저에서 원활하게 작동합니다.
안전성 및 개인 정보 보호
로그인 정보 없이 안전하고 익명으로 브라우징할 수 있습니다.
등록 필요 없음
사용자는 간단히 사용자명을 입력하여 공개된 스토리를 볼 수 있습니다. 계정이 필요하지 않습니다.
지원 형식
사진(JPEG)과 비디오(MP4)를 쉽게 다운로드합니다.
비용
이 서비스는 무료로 제공됩니다.
비공개 계정
비공개 계정의 콘텐츠는 팔로워만 접근할 수 있습니다.
파일 사용
파일은 개인적 또는 교육적 용도로만 사용 가능하며 저작권 규정을 준수해야 합니다.
작동 방식
공개된 사용자명을 입력하여 스토리를 보거나 다운로드할 수 있습니다. 서비스는 콘텐츠를 로컬에 저장할 수 있는 직접 링크를 생성합니다.