When your fake girlfriend dream and real car wash both turn into a nightmare 😂💥 Chihuahua’s billionaire dream ends with him accidentally kissing a furious Bully. Then, a car wash mistake turns into a hilarious back-and-forth soap bubble war! (Digitally AI-created for entertainment—no real animals involved.) #FunnyDogs #ChihuahuaPranks #TikTokComedy #DreamVsReality #CartoonHumor #AIAnimation
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Disabled US Army Hero Asks: "Am I Handsome?" ❤️🇺🇸 | Emotional Military Tribute
A powerful and emotional tribute featuring a disabled US Army soldier holding a sign that reads "Am I Handsome?", surrounded by fellow US Army personnel and Donald Trump. This image symbolizes courage, sacrifice, dignity, and respect for those who serve their country.
Hashtags: #USArmy #Military #Veteran #DisabledVeteran #ArmyLife #Respect #Honor #Soldier #Courage #AmericanHero
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Disabled US Army Woman Asks: "Am I Beautiful?" ❤️🇺🇸 | Emotional Military Tribute
A touching AI-generated tribute featuring a disabled U.S. Army woman holding a sign that reads "Am I Beautiful?" while standing alongside Donald Trump and fellow U.S. Army personnel. This artwork honors courage, sacrifice, resilience, and the dignity of those who serve their country.
Every soldier deserves respect, appreciation, and kindness.
Hashtags:
#ArmyLife #Military #Respect #Honor #Courage #Patriotism #AmericanHero #DonaldTrump
17
“I love him, but he was a very tough dad. He was something called a txiv geej; it’s a very respected position in our culture. At funerals he would play an instrument called a geej; it looks like a long flute with six smaller flutes attached. And its song is supposed to help the spirit pass on to the next world. My dad wanted nothing more than for his sons to continue the tradition. He’d make us practice for hours every day. When we were kids it was kinda cool. We’d play at Hmong New Year celebrations, and everyone would watch, and they’d be very polite. But as we became teenagers, it was like—this is not cool. We were living in a small town in Wisconsin-- not a lot of Asian folks in general. I was focused on trying to get by every day. I just wanted to hang out. I guess you could say I became more American. We had so many arguments over it, there was a lot of: ‘I don’t understand. This isn’t why we brought you to the States, not for this.’ I was very hurt by it; obviously you want your dad to be proud of you. But he was very hurt by it too—that he didn’t have a son who was observing the religion, playing the instrument, following his footsteps. It might sound like he was being selfish, but I think it was more selfless than selfish. He thought that if I didn’t follow the religion—our spirits would go two different places. It’s what he truly believed. And he wanted me to follow his footsteps after death as well. But toward the end of his life, he finally told me: ‘You’re a dad now. You’ve become your own man, and I respect whatever path you choose to follow.’ And I was so thankful for that. At his funeral one of his best friends played the geej. My father left a recording of exactly how he wanted it played; it’s almost as if he was providing the exact coordinates of where he wanted his soul to be.”
1
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I'll be having a short talk and signing copies of Dear New York at the Union Square Barnes and Noble next Wednesday, December 10th at 6 PM. If you're planning on gifting any copies and would like them personally addressed, now's your chance!
P.S. Dear New York is currently 50% off at both Barnes and Noble and Amazon, so if you're planning to gifting a copy and are not in New York-- now would be a good time to stock up! :)
50
“We all have that first love. Nothing will replace it. She was sixteen when I met her. It was a Coca-Cola dance event. I was a professional dancer; a salsa dancer. I was good-looking because I wore an afro. And she was like a queen. To see her was to see a queen, and everyone was after her. She wouldn’t let me dance with anyone else: she pulled her waist close, she leaned against my chest, and when I smelled her scent I was filled with the deepest wish for her to be mine. Oh, Gloria! We spent our honeymoon in Cartagena. But believe me, we saw nothing of Cartagena. Three days we spent in the hotel. Imagine, that woman: that long hair, that perfect body, that smile, all alone in your bed. Gloria was the most beautiful woman I ever had: jeans, a shirt, a dress. She looked gorgeous in all three. But I loved her most in a dress; I bought her the most beautiful dresses. We had three children together. She gave me the best years of my life and I didn’t even know how to appreciate them. It was a jealous friend who ruined everything. I was building a disco in the basement of a hotel. I shouldn’t have done it, but I invited a woman there. Just to look at the place. She was going to install some mirrors. But this jealous friend called Gloria, and they waited outside on a motorcycle until we came out. Gloria would not listen. She told me: ‘I’m going to pay you back, in the exact same way.’ And she did, she did! Oh, Gloria! How I cried! But I am a man. I did not ask for forgiveness. I did not drop to my knees and beg her to come back. I fell into gambling; I lost everything in the cockfighting casinos. Without her I preferred to lose it. I wanted to finish it off and be left with nothing. Last year I came here without a penny. With nothing but my doll. We dance in the subway for tips, and I think of Gloria. The only thing I want now is a place to sleep and stay, that is all. A place to invite her. No longer as a wife, but as a friend. I want to forgive everything. Let’s be friends. Oh, Gloria. Gloria.”
97
“Every piece of advertising directed at women says: ‘You’re not good enough.’ With men it’s a little different. The message is: ‘You’re great, but you can be even greater.’ That’s why I’m always going to have a chip on my shoulder against capitalism. There’s this scarcity mentality: eighteen people have all the money, and there isn’t enough to go around, so the rest of us have to compete with each other for scraps. The whole thing is based on this idea of competing with your fellow man. It’s one of the big reasons I created The Free Store. To show that there’s this undercurrent of kindness and camaraderie that also motivates people, and it has nothing to do with competition. I opened the first location during the height of the pandemic; things were really dark. Everyone was leaving New York and going back to Ohio or Connecticut or wherever the fuck they’re from, and they’re just leaving their belongings on the street. All this valuable stuff, just sitting on the street. It’s like: ‘What the fuck?’ So I hung up some shelves on one of these boarded-up buildings, stocked them with perfectly good stuff from the street, and hung up a sign that said: ‘Free Store.’ I ended up opening seventeen locations. I’m proud of it, I’m very proud of it. The Free Store had no owners, no managers, no customers. Only participants. Just people being people. There were a few motherfuckers, but almost everyone took only what they needed. Nobody was guarding these shelves, and for the most part they were always stacked with good stuff. I think it challenged this whole scarcity mindset, and it proved that even in the darkest times we will always have enough. It’s been my experience that when people see just how much stuff there is, the less likely they are to hoard everything. And the more faith they have in, like, their fellow man.”
29
“I'm 66 now. I’m looking at the end of this journey and I don't have time for bullshit. We are mission-specific here, no fluff. The life expectancy for kids in this community is a decade less than my own kids’. And it’s a very unhealthy, medically-induced life. It’s a function of the environment; in this neighborhood there are twenty-nine pharmacies, fifty-five fast food restaurants, and not a single supermarket. But environment can be changed. I started Harlem Grown fourteen years ago by turning an abandoned junkyard into an urban farm-- just to give kids a safe space and teach them about nutrition. But things started happening on the periphery: the kids’ parents would come hang out, and sometimes I’d send them home with fresh food from the farm: a few herbs, some tomatoes. I thought it was cute at first, but people heard we were giving out food and started showing up. Since then we’ve just kept ramping up. We have fourteen farms now. We’ve tried to stay true to our niche of providing fresh, nutritious, healthy foods: fruits and vegetables in particular. With the help of our partners, last year we were able to give away 160,000 pounds of food. I can regurgitate this shit, but when we get to the personal points man, it just fucks me up. Twenty-three kids from our program became the first in their family to attend four-year colleges. The first girl who ever joined our program is pursuing her PhD. Where would she be without that intervention? That’s my terror. Imagine if we weren’t here, how worse it would be for so many. When I started this, I was just looking for a volunteer opportunity. In my mind I was killing time while figuring out my next move. But the kids became my next move. You meet these kids, and you learn about their lives, and what are you supposed to do? When you don't know about something-- you can claim you just don't know. But once you do know, what do you do? Harlem Grown grew from one tiny, little lot that we called a farm to something that’s has been able to create so much joy and opportunity. It wasn't money that did that. It was time. I had time, and we all have time. But time for what? And that's what we have to ask ourselves.”
--------------------------------------------
Many of you remember the legendary Tony Hillery when I first shared his story a few years ago. Tony is one of the most mission-driven people I know, and he inspires me to no end. Please consider supporting his important work at Harlem Grown.
44
“I was a happy child from about five to seven. That’s when we got taken from our mother and sent to live with our aunt. I remember waking up on Christmas, snow on the ground, my uncle outside hanging up lights. Beautiful memories. But at one point it all stopped, and after that I just remember screaming. My uncle would scare me to the point where I’d piss myself. He was never satisfied until that happened. My aunt tried to stand up for me. Whenever my uncle said: ‘That’s not my son,’ she’d tell him: ‘We decided to do this.’ But eventually he stopped loving her too and after that the hatred was coming from everywhere. I tried to suicide myself before I knew what suicide was. But I made it through. I’ve been on my own now since the age of nineteen and haven’t been evicted once. I wish I drank less. But I’ve been strong, I’ve been working. I hang around with people older than me and they don't necessarily have something of their own. They see me, and they're like, ‘You're ill. You're getting up and going to work every day. You’re holding it down.’ But am I happy? I’ve experienced glimpses of happiness, but I’ve never been truly happy. I still battle a lot of things. The other day I woke up screaming, like fuck! But I’ve got to be here for something. I have a friend named Dre; he knows things about me, and he says: ‘For you to still be here-- you're here for a reason. You’ve got to see it through to the end-- to find out what it all means.’ What I’d really love is to finally have some freedom one day. Not having to think about what I’m going to eat tomorrow, things like that. I feel like it’s coming at some point. And when it does, I’m going straight back to my aunt and uncle. No anger, nothing. Because I want them to be free too. They were also abused, mind you. They showed me the marks. My aunt also tried to commit suicide. They were never happy. They were never free. But they tried their hardest to survive. They still tried for me, I know that. And if I ever get some freedom, if I ever get some happiness, I want them to feel it too.”
52
“We were driving to Atlanta to see my parents when I got a text from their mother. It said: ‘I moved to Chicago.’ When we got back to New York, her stuff was gone. We’d been going through a rough patch, but in my opinion—nothing that couldn’t be fixed. No infidelity or anything like that. She’s an artist too. I guess she's on a journey to find herself. My parents offered to take the kids in Georgia, so that option was on the table. But I thought: ‘Imagine what their life will be like if they lose both of you.’ The first month was rough. Catastrophic. But I took a step back. I thought: ‘You still have the kids. She's not contesting. A lot of people don’t have family, so start there. And don’t squander what you have.’ Before COVID I’d been the manager of a huge market: a whole bunch of people. And I didn’t love them, so I figured managing four kids would be easier than that. As a manager I learned to ask my employees to communicate what they’re going to do. Ask them what part they’re going to play. And if they understand what happens if they don’t do their part. So I did the same thing with the kids. It ended up becoming a collective project. My role is to make sure that we're not out in the street, the lights are on, and we have food in the fridge. Everyone cleans. Everyone does their schoolwork. Libby helps with the twins’ hair. My son handles the garbage and the heavier things. The twins need to listen to their big sister. It’s a whole checks and balances thing. They never embarrass me when I take them places. Not because they're worried about losing things, but because I taught them that they represent me. We’ve made it three years now. I felt happy on New Years; it’s just a reminder: ‘Yo, we pushed through another year.’ My goal is to get them through these next six years with as little harm as possible. They have their own dreams: Libby wants to be an artist, my son is a musician, one of the twins wants to be a train engineer, the other wants to go into the medical field. I never want them to say: ‘We could have done this, but Mom left.’ So that’s my goal: for them to be able to do all those things, despite our challenges. That’s the reason I’m going so hard.”
86
“I’ve been on forty first dates over the course of three years. And that’s not counting the hundred conversations on dating apps that didn’t go anywhere. So yeah— I thought meeting someone would be a little easier than this. Maybe the city is just a difficult place to date, or maybe it’s just how the apps are designed, but it’s a pretty cold environment, pretty emotionless. People don’t seem to put much emotion into the way they put themselves out there. There’s a lot of ghosting. It happens most often before you even get to the date. You’ll be trying to set something up, and the person falls off. But there are times when the date does happen, and you’ll think it went well, but when you follow up a few days later there’s no response. People seem to have this mentality that if they’ve just met someone online, they don’t owe them anything. And I agree with that to some extent. But I think you owe people the common decency to reject them. I don’t think it’s difficult to say: ‘I’m not interested.’ One time I’d been dating someone for a month-and-a-half. We’d just spent a weekend together in New Jersey, but when I texted him the next day he didn't respond ever again. Maybe I’m just too sensitive. A lot of people seem to be able to say: ‘If the person ghosted me, then they weren’t for me.’ But I end up feeling like I'm not interesting enough, or that there's something missing with me that people can sense, and that's why it never goes anywhere deeper. Maybe that’s my low self-esteem coming out. Maybe if I had higher self-esteem I wouldn’t take ghosting so badly. I’m still only 27, but I’m losing hope of actually finding someone. I'm so fed up with the interactions I’m having that I don't want to put myself out there as much. People keep disappointing me. So it’s like: ‘Is it really worth my peace to keep interacting with people?’ But I feel like I have to keep doing it. Because if I stop, then I'll get into this head space where I don't want to put myself out there again.’”
72
“I didn't talk to my father for twenty-five years. My therapist told me: if you're in a relationship where you're always giving, and the other person is always taking—just drop your end of the log. Stop reaching out and see if the other person picks it up. I was always scared to do that with my dad because I was afraid he wouldn't, and that's exactly what happened. So I cut him off. The silent treatment made me feel powerful because I could control it. People tried to warn me: ‘It's more your burden than his.’ For the longest time I didn’t believe them, but it was true. It required so much energy standing my ground, never taking his calls. I was still hanging onto the anger and rage. He'd been an alcoholic my entire life. I never felt supported. I never felt like he was interested in what I was doing. I never felt like I got love from him. And I needed some recognition of that. I thought if I engaged with him, I'd be letting him off the hook. I’m not sure when things changed. Have you ever had a moment where you just decide you don't want to be dependent on someone anymore? I've had it with past boyfriends, and one day it just happened with my father too. It was right after my husband had a stroke. I knew my father had recently had a stroke too, so on the drive home from the hospital I gave him a call. We talk occasionally now. I don’t demand anything of him. I don’t try to change him. I know we’re never going to have the kind of relationship that I always wanted, but I get that from other people. I have a big life. There are people who care about me, who I love, and I know they love me. And I think he loves me in his own way, I guess. He’s had a rough go of it: his dad committed suicide when he was eight. So he does the best he can. I always used to say: "Well, that's not good enough!" But I’ve let go of that. I saw him for the first time in twenty-five years at my niece’s wedding. He's a little old man now. Eighty-two, and a little hunched. My sisters were there. We all danced. Everyone was laughing, catching up. There was no fighting. There was no: "When I was six years old, you didn't do my laundry!" I don’t know how to describe it; it was just light.”
68
“Every time I finished, the first thought was: I want to get out of here. I don’t know how to describe the feeling: whatever is the opposite of integrity. I was conniving, cheating, lying to others, lying to myself. Sex can take over your whole life. I taught writing out of college and then I threw it all away. I worked odd jobs so I could be a night person and do whatever I wanted. I was never honest in a relationship, never monogamous. It was exhausting always trying to cover my tracks. Forget the possibility of STD’s. How do you build integrity if you’re engaging in those behaviors: calling all these girls, juggling all these women? That’s why I drank on top of it. So I could lie to myself: ‘At least it’s just a prostitute. At least I’m not having an affair.’ Those were some of the stories I‘d tell myself so I could pretend to like myself. But eventually it got to a point where it was just too much. For the first time I decided to see a therapist, and it was the therapist who recommended the meetings. If you tell people you’re in AA, they say ‘Good job.’ But there’s still a lot of shame with this disease. So people are doing this stuff in the dark. Especially porn. Which for a long time I thought was the solution to my addiction, but I realize now it was the root. I met my current wife not long after I started the program. It’s been over ten years, and it’s the first relationship where I’ve never cheated. Never, never, never. I’ve only told her two lies the entire relationship. I lied about my age on the dating app profile, but I confessed to that on our first date. And I lied about having a hemorrhoid. I didn’t want to tell her, so I said it was some other shit. Other than that, we have zero secrets. You couldn’t touch my phone before because I’d be too afraid of what you’d see, but my phone is an open book now. It's so corny, but honesty really is the best policy. Now if you ask me what I did last night—I don’t have to even think. It’s so much easier. And I’m trying to instill the same thing in my kids. We don’t lie in our house. My kids know that their father doesn't lie. And when my daughter gives a pinky promise-- that shit is like gold.”
306
“About the time I retired I came up with five goals. I have the list on my phone. And the first goal is simply to be with my wife in every respect: physically, emotionally, as a lover, as a supporter—I want that to be the focal point of my life. Because after 26 years of marriage, I'm still very much in love. I still very much enjoy who she is. She’s wonderful to her friends and community. She has the most amazing big smile; it comes out every time she hears a piece of exciting news or a salacious piece of gossip. She's really smart. Not smart the way I am: I was a museum curator, I’m into nuclear physics, molecular biology. But she’s wiser and a good observer and a good listener. I tend to get carried away with worries and concerns; I suffer from long-term, treatment-resistant depression. It's been 43 different medications including convulsive shock therapy. But she’s sustained me through it all. She always knows how to bring me back to earth. She’ll provide a perspective that is otherwise absent. She’s makes sure I get what I need—even if it's just keeping me fed. So during this chapter I want to care for her very intentionally, and I’m still figuring out what that should look like. It's a lifetime of work to maintain and nourish our connections, because things shift. Things happen, people get sick. Two years ago she was diagnosed with a rare and deadly form of eye cancer. We've gone through surgery and recoveries and complications and all sorts of things. So a lot of the care I provide right now is physical: she can’t see out of that eye and needs a lot of help. But there’s an emotional element too. She’s become a little more isolated, a little less active. So I try to maintain her connections with other people, make sure that we have people over for dinner, make sure that we're getting enough exercise, make sure that we have some plans to do something fun-- things like that. None of it is a chore. I do it all without any sense of obligation or requirement. This is what I want to do. It feeds my plant to care for hers’.”
39
“I nurtured two independent young minds, and then I bore the brunt of that independence. I think every parent goes through the same thing. In order for us to stop controlling them, they have to break away. It’s programmed in their DNA. They need to hate us a little in order to develop their own identity. My youngest called me ‘Stage Mom’ once. She immediately apologized. But that one hurt, because it implies control. And it’s never been about control for me. It’s just enthusiasm: I have all this knowledge, somebody passed it on to me, and I want to pass it on to someone else. But when you’re Mom, it’s impossible for your opinions to not come across as judgment. So I’m learning to shut up. I’m trying to stop saying obvious things that she already knows. Sometimes I still do, but she’s learning to not aggressively respond. She’ll just say: ‘Yes, yes, yes.’ And when I hear that, I know she’s telling me to shut up. So we’re learning each other. Right now she’s studying acting at NYU. I’m visiting from LA, and we got to hang out in her dorm last night. She’s recovering from a concussion, so two of her friends cooked dinner. I got to see how they appreciate each other. The three of them just finished collaborating on a film. They entered it into a film festival, and my daughter won the best actor award. They’re creating these things and growing together and I had nothing to do with any of it. But still, they chose to include me. We were four equals that night. We were talking film all the time, exchanging our ideas and stuff. I got to sleep in a dorm! Only because I had to drive her to the doctor in the morning, but still-- how cool is that? When a super cool group of people from a younger generation want to include you-- there’s no better compliment. It felt like the end of being the parent, and maybe an inkling of what it’s like to be included in a different way. As more of an equal, a friend. She’s only 20. I’m hoping there will be more opportunities before I get too old and annoying. Or more annoying, in different ways. I just got the text that they want to hang out with me tonight again. So I mean, c’mon. That’s a win. That's a win, win, win!”
63
Angel Moreno owns the oldest Vegan restaurant in NYC. He was recently swindled out of his $300,000 life savings by an ‘investment professional’ who promised to preserve the capital and provide a ‘high monthly rate of return.’ Angel unfortunately trusted the man because he’d been introduced to him by a spiritual advisor. The ‘returns’ lasted only a few months, then the $300,000 vanished along with the investment professional. Angel was left with little legal recourse because it had technically been an ‘investment.’
Heartbroken and a bit embarrassed, Angel assumed massive amounts of debt just to keep the restaurant open these last few years. Caravan of Dreams had never just been a business to him. With no children of his own, the restaurant has been his child and life’s purpose. Despite thriving for decades, it never quite recovered after the pandemic and had begun losing money every night, so Angel maxed out his credit cards and exhausted a $150,000 small business loan just to keep the doors open.
Last month he’d reached the end of his rope. At the age of 76, he'd exhausted both his savings and credit, and did not have enough money to pay the rent. He was only able to keep the doors open because of a (miraculous) clerical error by the landlord. Around this time I was introduced to him and learned his story. I shared it on Humans of New York hoping to drum up some foot traffic for the restaurant. (I’ve always loved eating at Caravan of Dreams because it serves the most delicious organic food in the city.)
Along with the story I included a link to an old GoFundMe that Angel had set up after the pandemic. It had only attracted a handful of donors. I didn’t even tell Angel that I was sharing the link, because his debt was so large, and his position was so grave, that I didn’t think a single story would materially change his situation.
But over the past 48 hours, thousands of you contributed nearly $175,000. Angel’s $200,000 debt has almost completely been wiped away, and a huge portion of his life savings have been recovered. Caravan of Dreams can stay open, and Angel now has the opportunity for a peaceful and prosperous final season of his life. Thanks to all of you for collectively becoming this beloved man’s miracle, and extending his belief in magic.
A message of gratitude from Angel:
“In the middle of the chaos there was a miracle. Having been cheated, no money, not sleeping, and all of this stress—I was preparing myself for anything. But part of me was still having hope, that if I could not be affected by all this, and somehow keep my essence, then perhaps the chaos might transform into something beautiful. Eventually the burden grew so heavy that I could not continue, so I asked for help. I started speaking with customers: reaching out to share my misery, my gratefulness, my everything. That was the beginning-- letting go. People started organizing to help out of this situation in any way possible. Thank you to everyone involved in this fundraiser. Thank you to all the people working here, all the suppliers, thank you to the musicians who come here and share their music, thank you to all the customers—everyone coming to Caravan of Dreams is a potential friend. When I start reading comments from people, all the understanding, all the gratitude, all the love and support I was feeling makes me cry. I should even say to the people who cheated me, I learned something from you and I am developing more unconditional love. I do not justify the negativity but unfortunately we must sometimes suffer many times in order to improve our behaviors, and change the negative into the positive. If there is anyone from the last 35 years that I have not remembered, all of you are in my heart. I would like to conclude with the word ‘desire.’ A wise man teaching about the invisible once said that everything starts from a desire. When I was a young man I had a desire to be a good person, and that was the beginning of getting more.
103
I had to learn that this narrative I was brought up with—that I could do anything— just wasn’t true.
13
I started the Humans of New York Patreon several years ago and I’ve asked people to join exactly once—on the first day it was created. (If that gives any indication of my shyness around money.) But thousands of people have discovered it anyway. And the support they’ve provided has been absolutely essential to the creation of Humans of New York. Over the years HONY has featured thousands of stories from over 40 countries. It’s provided a platform and voice for so many deserving people. And along the way we’ve fundraised over $20 million to help alleviate burdens. All of this has been done without a single sponsored post or advertisement, and the primary reason for this is the support of Patreon subscribers. I realize that many people only read a story every once in a while, and that is more than fine. For the people who read the stories more frequently, thank you so much for your constant presence. As an artist, it’s far more valuable to me than money. And for the longest time it’s been all I’ve cared about. But my own family is growing. And I’d love to continue making Humans of New York without thinking about how to pay for it. So if you’re in a good place right now, and the work has enriched your life over the years, I hope you’ll consider contributing to its creation by joining the Patreon
19
I thought he was a gay at first. I’d been looking for an artist to paint a canvas in my living room, and Mitya was a friend of my roommate. So I hired him. He showed up in his tight pants, with his little backpack. And he painted the most beautiful mural showing women of all colors supporting each other. I was attracted to him, I liked his accent. But I thought: ‘Definitely gay.’ And I’m 64 years old. I hadn't dated in eight years. I didn't know how to kiss, nothing. So I wasn’t exactly looking to meet someone. But two months later my roommate moves out, and she tells me that Mitya is looking for place to stay. He seemed harmless enough, so I said OK. We had a party when he moved in. My daughter has a lot of gay friends, and I told them to go casually talk to him. They reported back to me: 'Not gay, just European.’ And everything happened organically from there. We went to a museum one afternoon. Then a few nights later we were watching a movie and things got physical. We’ve been together for two years now. He’s so attentive to me. He does all the cooking. I haven’t had anyone taking care of me like this for many, many years. The males in my life didn’t show up in a positive way. I grew up around a lot of single women who carried the torch themselves, so I have trust issues with men. But I feel safe with Mitya. Make no mistake, he can be a difficult person. He can be extremely stubborn. He gets in these artists moods. But the Mitya you see is the Mitya you get. I’m a realist. I know this is a temporary relationship. I'm twenty years older than him. I’ve told him that if he would like to engage with someone else, he can. As long as he comes to me first. He gets annoyed when I talk like this. He says: 'We are in the here and now.’ But I don’t want him staying with me forever. Mitya deserves a family. He’d be such a good husband, a great dad. And I can't give him that. Maybe we’ll meet at another time, in another life, when we’re closer in age. I think God brought us together for a reason. Mitya gave me the full experience of what a man should stand for. Being with him was like being in a cocoon. I’ll have to leave one day, but I’ll have become a butterfly.”
352
My mom was super against it. She was like: ‘Don’t go. You don’t need to do this.’ But I was convinced it was the one thing that would finally make me happy. I’ve believed that since I was a kid. I used to stretch for like an hour a day, hoping to grow. Then when I was sixteen I found out about a procedure in India called limb-lengthening. I said to my mom: that’s exactly what I’m going to do, and my mind has been set on it for ten years. I moved back home, started working sales jobs, saving for the operation. The procedure was $60,000. Some people go to Turkey; I went to Europe. The day of the operation I was scared as shit, I won’t lie. They’re shaving my legs, it’s like: fuck, this feels real. They broke both my femurs and inserted an expandable rod. Some people grow five to six inches; I added three. At first I was very happy with what I saw in the mirror. I finally felt like I was enough. But the recovery took months; I was all alone, in a foreign country. And the feelings of emptiness came back. I’ve had these depressive episodes my entire life. I’ve never understood them. My life is good: I have a family, I have a house. But it always felt like something was missing. I thought for sure it was my height, but I’m realizing now it was much deeper than that. I love my mom. But she was a single mom; she’s very old school. And I don’t think she gave me the emotional support I needed during childhood. Nothing I did was ever enough. If I ever needed to talk about something, she’d say: ‘It’s not that serious.’ She was always working. I had to manage everything alone, and that’s overwhelming for a kid. I’m trying to be compassionate with myself. What’s done is done. And if I hadn’t done it, I don’t think I’d have come to this conclusion. I was reading about this a couple days ago; some people don’t realize until their 40’s or 50’s that there’s an underlying emptiness and nothing external is going to fill it. It would have required something drastic happening to me later in life. It can be easy to remember things that happened in childhood. It’s much harder to remember the things that didn’t happen. And it was the things that didn’t happen that kind of fucked me up.”
45
"I was nineteen when we started dating. He was older, owned three companies, had all this life experience. By the time I saw his true colors it was too late; he'd moved me away from home and put me through every form of abuse you can imagine. When I finally told him I was leaving, he got violent. It left me half-deaf and disabled. But I escaped and went to live with my parents. For two years I wouldn’t leave the house; I was too afraid of him coming back. Dad did everything he could to coax me out of it. First it was simple things: ‘Why don't you read a book? Why don't you come sit on the couch?’ He’d been in the Marines, so he’d tell me about his own struggles with PTSD. Eventually he got me out on the front porch. Then he got me playing basketball. Then he got me into therapy, and he'd drive me to and from. My first job was at my parents' vet. It was just an hour at a time, watching over the boarded dogs. But I liked it, I felt safe. My boss would tell me: this dog got rescued, it’s been abused, it's head shy. And I'd think: I know that feeling. For my birthday in 2014, Dad loaned me the money to put down a deposit on a mobile grooming van. It was one year after my daughter was born; Dad would pick her up from daycare so I could go to work. I paid him back in three years. Things were going great, my daughter and I had our own apartment. But last year Mom went into the ICU and I had to stop working for months to take care of her. Then the generator on the van broke-- costs more to fix than to replace-- and I can’t afford it. I'm back living with Dad again. I don’t want to stay in his house and live off his retirement. My daughter is thirteen, she needs her own space. She’s acting out at school. I feel like I'm failing as a mom, failing completely. Dad will bring me out to cut grass with him. He’ll be like: ‘Hey kiddo, what’s going on? I know the van’s down, you’re stressing, but you still have to be here for your daughter.’ Last week I told him: ‘Dad, I'm done.’ He said: ‘If you say that again, I’ll smack you. Look back at what you’ve conquered. You’ve already come through the worst part of your life. You’re not giving up now. You’re like me. We’re never done.”
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Six months ago I led a two-week public art installation called Dear New York, which transformed the entirety of Grand Central Terminal into a celebration of NYC’s humanity. It was unquestionably the thing I’m proudest to have been a part of. For two magical weeks, many millions of people from all walks of life were treated to a completely free cultural event and artistic experience. Dear New York was also a civic investment with over $500,000 in direct payments to NYC’s artistic community. Many notable institutions helped me bring Dear New York to life, and I’m so grateful for their partnership. But the truth is— 100% of the costs of Dear New York were paid by me, representing most of my savings from fifteen years of doing Humans of New York. Perhaps no individual has any business funding a civic work of this size. But I made the decision because I wanted Dear New York to be uncommercial, unbranded, and centered on people— just like HONY. And that’s exactly what it was. I’ve been reinvesting my earnings back into the work for fifteen years, so this isn’t an entirely new position. But the math is a bit different these days; I have three kids. And the unfortunate irony of Dear New York is that I poured so much of myself into a work of art that in the near term it has greatly complicated my ability to keep making art. I will make a way regardless. I’m not afraid of hard work, and I like to believe I have quite a few marketable skills. But I’d love to keep telling human stories instead of corporate ones. That’s why I’m coming to you. I like to believe there’s a huge community of people out there who have drawn meaning from the work over the past fifteen years. HONY has shared over ten thousand stories, shone a light on many important social issues, and raised over $25,000,000 for deserving causes.
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Everyone has their problems. And my mom, you know, had a drinking problem. She wasn’t a perfect lady. But she loved a lot. And when I lost her, I lost me. It was Christmas Eve. My Uncle Rome and Uncle Albert sat me down and said: ‘Your moms got hit by a car.’ A car hit her and dragged her down the hill, it took her away on Christmas Eve. It was bad for me. I broke all the windows in the apartment. I threw the chairs; I went in a terrible rage, very terrible. I went down, downhill. It was a hard life. It was a hard life like rats. School wasn’t good for me. I couldn’t comprehend, I couldn’t catch up. Everything I had, it was taken. They’d call me all types of names. I was just a kid. Like why would ya’ll say that to me? When I came home I just locked myself in my room. There were pictures on the wall, pictures of my moms. So I was like: I ain’t gonna leave my room. And that wasn’t good. I was like an animal in a cage. I allowed the demons to come into play. They tricked my mind. They told me you don’t need God. You don’t need him, you need us. It's OK to do bad things. It’s OK to sell drugs. When you lose somebody you love, man, it hurts. I walk the world with feelings, and sometimes I crash inside my soul. Sometimes I debate with my soul. It can happen that way, where you and your soul have a conversation. It’s like, yo, what we doing here? Why do we even exist? I go back to being a kid, feeling like I ain’t worth nothing. And that’s why I stay spider. Deshawn and the spider became as one, an entity that can’t be broken. It’s kind of hard to explain, but the spider and me, we love each other. He’s my best friend. Sometimes there’s a disagreement. Sometimes there’s a debate between Deshawn and the spider. I feel like I’m letting Deshawn down by becoming the spider. Sometimes he feels left out. Like the spider became more than Deshawn. Like the spider took over. He says that it’s not good to overshadow the person that was there before this fight even came into his life. And I don’t want him to feel that way. Like he’s dying. I don’t like to use that word, but sometimes I feel like I’m making Deshawn die. To become a spider.”
113
I was walking home as usual by subway, lost in thought like everyone else, when I noticed this boy getting on at the next stop. What struck me was not his backpack or his messy hair, but the fact that he was barefoot, holding a torn sneaker and wearing a single mismatched sock. He sat between two strangers and tried to pretend he didn't notice every look.
People can be weird about this kind of situation. Some look away, others stare at it, but most pretend not to see anything. However, the man sitting on the other side of the boy kept looking down, then looking at the bag at his feet. I could see that he was thinking.
After a few stops, the man leaned over, cleared his throat, and said softly, "Hey, I just bought these for my son, but they might fit you better. Anyway, he already has a pair. The boy looked up, surprised and a little suspicious, but the man simply handed him the brand new blue sneakers, with their tags still attached.
Everyone pretended not to look, but you could feel the atmosphere change in the carriage. The boy looked at the shoes, then put them on. They fit him perfectly. He whispered "thank you," but the man just smiled and replied, "No problem, kid. Reciprocate one day. »
46
A butterfly landed right on his forehead while he was busy munching on his lettuce. 😭🦋 The way he looked up trying to find it absolutely melted my heart. 🥹🐶
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12 years ago I found and fostered this sweet girl for a few months in Boulder, CO until she was adopted in AZ.
In January she showed up at a shelter in Vegas, still chipped to me.
Now she’s home and will be spoiled for the rest of her life.
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this just made me sad and happy at the same time. this foundation in bangkok helps and assist stray and disabled dogs. getting them the proper help so they move 🥺😭
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10 days ago my pup was viciously mauled to death by a dog that wasn't leashed. I picked up his ashes today. To say that I am heartbroken would be a gross understatement. I have buried 4 grandparents in the last 7 years, but nothing had prepared me for the pain of the last 10 days.
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One of the saddest parts of losing Griffey is the grief I’ve witnessed in Dolly….Still keeping watch and waiting for him to come home. #dogsgrievetoo
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found a poor moma with 5 puppies abondend and injuerd..😭❤️ #kindness #rescueanimals #rescuedogsoftiktok #dogs
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how a kind lady saves a poor dog from cruel man who was dragging him behind bike.😢😭 . #kindness #rescueanimals #rescuedogsoftiktok #dogs
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you won't believe that😳....the poor dog was thrown tied his legs into abondend hole.🥹 #rescueanimals #kindness #rescuedogsoftiktok #dogs
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poor puppy was hiding his self from rain and stuck under hole.🥹🙏. #kindness #rescueanimals #rescuedog #dogs
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sick and hungry found on roadside this dog was abondend.🥹❤️ #kindness #rescuedogs #fYP #rescueanimals
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