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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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.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
#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
Veja Stories do Instagram Secretamente
O Visualizador de Stories do Instagram é uma ferramenta fácil que permite assistir e salvar stories, vídeos, fotos ou IGTV do Instagram secretamente. Com este serviço, você pode baixar conteúdos e apreciá-los offline sempre que quiser. Se você encontrar algo interessante no Instagram que gostaria de ver mais tarde ou quiser visualizar stories de forma anônima, nosso Visualizador é perfeito para você. Anonstories oferece uma excelente solução para manter sua identidade oculta. O Instagram lançou a funcionalidade de Stories em agosto de 2023, que logo foi adotada por outras plataformas devido ao seu formato dinâmico e sensível ao tempo. Os Stories permitem que os usuários compartilhem atualizações rápidas, sejam fotos, vídeos ou selfies, com textos, emojis ou filtros, e ficam visíveis por apenas 24 horas. Esse limite de tempo cria maior engajamento em comparação com posts comuns. Nos dias de hoje, os Stories são uma das formas mais populares de se conectar e comunicar nas redes sociais. No entanto, quando você visualiza um Story, o criador pode ver seu nome na lista de visualizadores, o que pode ser uma preocupação com a privacidade. E se você quiser navegar pelos Stories sem ser notado? É aí que o Anonstories se torna útil. Ele permite que você assista a conteúdos públicos do Instagram sem revelar sua identidade. Basta digitar o nome de usuário do perfil que você está curioso, e a ferramenta mostrará seus Stories mais recentes. Funcionalidades do Visualizador Anonstories: - Navegação Anônima: Veja Stories sem aparecer na lista de visualizadores. - Sem Conta Necessária: Veja conteúdos públicos sem se cadastrar no Instagram. - Download de Conteúdos: Salve qualquer conteúdo de Stories diretamente no seu dispositivo para uso offline. - Veja Destaques: Acesse os Destaques do Instagram, até mesmo após o prazo de 24 horas. - Monitoramento de Reposts: Acompanhe os reposts ou o nível de engajamento em Stories de perfis pessoais. Limitações: - Esta ferramenta funciona apenas com contas públicas; contas privadas permanecem inacessíveis. Benefícios: - Amigável à Privacidade: Veja qualquer conteúdo do Instagram sem ser notado. - Simples e Fácil: Não há necessidade de instalação de aplicativo ou registro. - Ferramentas Exclusivas: Baixe e gerencie conteúdos de maneiras que o Instagram não oferece.
Vantagens do Anonstories
Explore Stories do IG Privadamente
Acompanhe as atualizações do Instagram de forma discreta, protegendo sua privacidade e permanecendo anônimo.
Visualizador Privado do Instagram
Veja perfis e fotos anonimamente com facilidade usando o Visualizador de Perfil Privado.
Visualizador de Stories Gratuito
Esta ferramenta gratuita permite que você veja Stories do Instagram anonimamente, garantindo que sua atividade permaneça oculta do criador do story.
Perguntas Frequentes
Anonimato
Anonstories permite que os usuários vejam stories do Instagram sem alertar o criador.
Compatibilidade com Dispositivos
Funciona perfeitamente em iOS, Android, Windows, macOS e navegadores modernos como Chrome e Safari.
Segurança e Privacidade
Prioriza navegação segura e anônima, sem necessidade de credenciais de login.
Sem Registro
Os usuários podem visualizar stories públicos digitando apenas o nome de usuário—sem precisar de uma conta.
Formatos Suportados
Baixa fotos (JPEG) e vídeos (MP4) com facilidade.
Custo
O serviço é gratuito.
Contas Privadas
Conteúdos de contas privadas só podem ser acessados por seguidores.
Uso de Arquivos
Os arquivos são para uso pessoal ou educacional, conforme as regras de direitos autorais.
Como Funciona
Digite um nome de usuário público para ver ou baixar stories. O serviço gera links diretos para salvar o conteúdo localmente.