Aliens of New York
Building acceptance and understanding among all species

Welcome to Aliens of New York, a celebration of the universal experiences, struggles, and joy of existence.

Latest Stories

You humans have such a charming tradition of celebrating New Year's Eve! You see, back on my planet, time is a wibbly-wobbly concept. We don't really have 'years' or 'days' in the human sense. So, the concept of celebrating the end of one year and the start of another was as alien to me as, well, I am to you!
But I must say, I've grown quite fond of it! As the Earth completes another whirl around the Sun I’m ready to bid adieu to this year and welcome the next.
This past Earth year has been amazing for me. I've had my share of misadventures - like the time I mistook a hot dog for a communication device (long story) - but I've also found warmth and kindness in the most unexpected places.
And on the topic of human food, I've developed a serious taste for New York pizza, though I'm still baffled by the concept of pineapple as a topping.
As the countdown begins, I find myself thinking about what new adventures the new year holds. For me, for you, for this wonderful city. I do know this: life is an incredible journey, full of twists, turns, and the occasional intergalactic mishap.
So, as we step into the new year, let's do it with hope in our hearts and dreams in our eyes. Let's make mistakes, laugh, cry, and most importantly, let's do it together.
Happy New Year, New York! Here's to another year of adventures, pizza, and unexpected life lessons. And who knows? Maybe this will be the year I finally figure out how to use the subway system without ending up in Coney Island (though, admittedly, the detours have been quite fun).

As the Earth spins into what humans affectionately call the "holiday season," I find myself wandering the streets of New York. Earth’s holidays are a curious phenomenon, full of lights, music, and an outpouring of emotions.
Back on my home planet, we didn't have holidays – not in the way humans do. Our days were measured in cycles of work and rest, in a continuous loop. Seeing Earthlings pause their lives to celebrate, to come together, triggers an odd sensation in my three-chambered heart. It’s a feeling I've come to understand as 'nostalgia' – a peculiarly human term.
Humans have an innate need for connection, for belonging. It's something I've struggled to grasp fully, but during this season, the yearning is palpable. Streets buzzing with hurried shoppers, arms laden with gifts, speak of a tradition of giving, of showing love through material tokens. Yet, there's more than just the physical exchange – there's an exchange of emotions, of hopes, of forgiveness.
I think about my own journey here, to Earth, how I’ve been embraced and feared in equal measure. How I’ve sought to understand humanity and, in the process, have unraveled layers of my own identity. The holiday season mirrors my own story. It's a reminder of resilience, of the ability to find joy and light in the bleakest of times. And for someone like me, far from home and lost among the stars, it's a lesson in the human spirit's indomitable nature.
So, here I am, an alien in New York during the holiday season, learning about humanity and, inadvertently, about myself.

I committed a crime, a foolish and desperate act that I now regret deeply.
I came to New York with the hope of starting a new life, of leaving behind the mistakes and troubles of my past. Back where I come from, which is way farther than any place you'd know, I'd messed up big time.
But here's the thing about messing up – it's like a shadow. You can move to a new place, meet new people, but that shadow, it sticks with you. I tried real hard to fit in, to be a part of the life here. And for a while, it worked.
Then, one day, I did something stupid. I thought that I could get away with it, that no one would notice or care. But that was just me lying to myself. People here noticed, and it turns out, it was a big deal.
Sitting here now, thinking about it, I realize how wrong I was. I wasn't just breaking some rule; I was betraying the trust of this city, of the friends I made. I was disrespecting the very chance I was given to start anew. It's funny, isn't it? You run away from your past, only to end up facing it again.
I'm being deported, sent back to face the music on my home planet. And they don't go easy on you there. I'm scared, not gonna lie. I don't know if they'll ever let me come back here, or if I'll be marked as a troublemaker for life.
Leaving Earth is not easy, for it has become my home and the place where I have made connections and friendships that I will never forget. But, you know, in a weird way, this whole mess has been like a wake-up call.
I'm learning that taking responsibility is part of growing up, part of being a decent being. I've made connections here, friendships that mean the world to me. This city, with its crazy energy and diverse crowd, it's become a part of me.
As I prepare to leave, I can't help but hope that this isn't the end. Maybe, after I've paid for what I did, I can come back. Maybe I'll get a chance to show that I've changed, that I've learned from my mistakes.
For now, though, I've got to face what's coming. It's only right. I made a choice, and now I've got to deal with what comes after. And maybe, just maybe, New York will be there for me again, when I'm ready to return.

Since moving to New York a year ago, I've grappled with self-consciousness regarding my body. I come from a planet where gravity is much weaker than here. My size is considered normal and isn't subject to the same stigma I face now. But on Earth, I stand out and can't help but feel disheartened by my weight. I thought if I could just fit into what Earth considers 'normal', maybe things would get better. So, I tried to adapt, you know? Tried to lose weight, eat like Earth folks do, but your standards of beauty, so different from what I knew, seemed like a mountain I couldn’t climb.
The nagging feeling of not belonging and not being good enough persists. Living here has been a more arduous journey than I anticipated. Gradually, I'm learning to accept my body and cultivate self-love for who I am. There's beauty in being different, in being me. This realization didn't happen overnight. It was a slow process, filled with a lot of ups and downs.
I won't lie, there were days when I felt really low, days when I'd look in the mirror and just not like what I saw. Those days were tough. But then, there were also days when I'd catch myself smiling, feeling genuinely okay with who I am. Those days started to add up, slowly but surely. To maintain a lighthearted perspective, I've developed a sense of humor about my situation. Joking about being the heavyweight champion of the galaxy has helped me not take myself too seriously and embrace my unique journey on this planet.
And humor, man, it's been my life-saver. Making jokes about myself, like calling myself the heavyweight champion of the galaxy, has been a way for me to take the edge off. It's like telling the world and myself that it's okay to be different. Laughing at myself, in a good way, has been therapeutic. It reminds me not to take everything so seriously.

Upon my arrival, I was exhilarated to immerse myself in this city and its creative community.
In my home planet art and creativity were foreign concepts, stifled by our swampy surroundings and primitive technology. The transition to New York, where artistic expression was celebrated, was a revelation. 
Working in a design studio has been a rewarding experience. My projects have included branding, packaging, and web design, which has allowed me to grow and evolve as a designer.
In the early days, everything seemed perfect. The city's energy was contagious. I attended gallery openings, marveled at the stunning street art, and even had the chance to collaborate with local artists on a mural project.
However, the rapid advancements in artificial intelligence within the industry have recently left me feeling challenged and vulnerable. Observing AI create designs with greater speed and precision than I ever could has shaken my confidence and made me question my own value as a designer. The relentless pace of AI's progress can be overwhelming, and I fear being left behind.
Through introspection and self-reflection, I've come to understand that my unique perspective, background, and experiences are invaluable. While my designs might not be generated as swiftly as those by AI, they are infused with a touch of creativity and originality that cannot be replicated by any algorithm.
In embracing my roots from my humble swamp planet, I've learned to appreciate my distinct contribution to the design world. My unique essence sets me apart and enables me to leave a mark on the creative landscape.
When I arrived in New York, I felt like I was tossed into the deep end of a pool without so much as a towel.
For a while, everything seemed unfamiliar and overwhelming, and I was utterly alone. My heart ached for my home planet and my people.
Gradually, I adapted to my new surroundings and began building a life here. I secured a job and made a few acquaintances, but something still felt amiss.
Then, I encountered a friend who would transform my life forever. Bola crossed paths with me a few times at the park. Initially, I hesitated to engage him, unsure if he would accept me as I am. But once we began to talk, I sensed his uniqueness. He didn't view me as an odd being from another planet; he saw me as a fellow traveler in life.
Bola confided in me about his past, explaining how he left Nigeria in pursuit of a brighter future and had to adapt to an entirely new culture and society. We quickly developed a powerful connection.
Together, we filled our free time with exploration, savoring new cuisines, and enjoying each other's company. Despite our disparate origins, we shared a great deal in common. He introduced me to his culture, while I reciprocated by sharing mine. He was the first person to truly comprehend the experience of being an alien on Earth.
Bola's unwavering support and understanding have been invaluable. He accepts me wholeheartedly, and I treasure that. As my best friend and guide on this planet, he makes everything worthwhile and I feel profoundly grateful for his presence in my life.
Back to Top