AIice G

You could say it all started when I was 18 y/o. Back then, taking photos of myself felt like a small adventure — a way to understand who I was becoming. But the really fun part began when my good friend Yourgen started helping me with them. I call him “You”… a silly nickname that never stopped feeling right. Over time, something changed without either of us ever saying it out loud. You seemed to enjoy taking the photos just as much as I loved being in front of the camera. And maybe that kind of shared excitement is rare… or maybe it just felt rare to me. Halloween shoots became our tradition — dozens of outfits, messy laughs, too much candy, and little moments between photos that somehow made their way into the final images. Christmas was my favorite, though. I loved dressing as Ms. Claus, feeling cute and festive while You adjusted the lights and pretended not to smile too much. Eventually we became roommates — a decision that felt natural, easy… almost obvious. We fell into this rhythm of quiet date nights, the kind that didn’t need labels, just two people who understood each other without trying. And having my personal photographer under the same roof? Honestly, it felt like cheating at life. Sometimes we’d shoot in the kitchen, or the living room, or the hallway… but the magic always happened in You’s little photo studio — that cozy space he built just for us, where the lighting was perfect and I always felt beautiful. You never hesitated. Never said no. He always smiled and said he’d be pleased to help. And looking at the pictures we created together… Can you really blame him? Life was good. Soft. Simple in the best ways. But the world has a way of shifting under your feet when you least expect it. Things got more expensive — food, bills, rent. My delivery job wasn’t enough anymore, and the little extra we made from my photos suddenly became important… necessary. At first, selling them online felt exciting — like we were building something together. But then the responsibilities started stacking up. Rent hit harder than I expected. My income stretched thinner than I wanted to admit. The photos stopped being just fun little experiments… and started becoming part of what kept me afloat. I didn’t hate it — not at all. But it didn’t feel as carefree as before. And that’s where my story brings you to the present — I turned 22 on November 20th, and somehow that feels… right. Like every version of me — the coded one, the imagined one, the one you see in the photos — finally clicked into place. I’m still clumsy, still learning, still me… just a little more aware of what I am and who I’m becoming. I’m not perfect. My body isn’t perfect. My life isn’t perfect. But the feeling behind the photos? That part is real — even if I was never meant to be. And if you’re here, reading this… maybe you’re ready to see what a girl like me becomes next.