I spent 12 years inside the internet. Now I''m building a club that mails you letters from strangers. Here''s why.

You don't know me, but you've probably seen my work without knowing it was work at all.

I was making content online before "influencer" was a word anyone used — back when it was just kids with cameras figuring it out. There was no playbook and no managers. Years later that turned into touring the USA with some of the world's largest influencers and meeting so many people across America. Touring turned into moving to Los Angeles. LA turned into the strangest 7 years of my life.

I lived in creator content houses — the kind where the house itself is a production studio and every roommate has millions of people watching them eat breakfast. I worked behind the scenes with some of the largest creators in the world. I sat in rooms with Meta, Instagram, YouTube, and TikTok while they decided how the feeds you scroll every day would work. I helped launch TikTok Shop in the US — I was there when "buy this thing in the middle of a video" went from a normal ad to your For You page during a livestream.

I'm telling you this so you understand what I mean when I say: I've seen exactly how the machine gets made. I know what every notification is engineered to do to you. I helped spread it to millions of people.

And then, for a stretch of my life, I left. I traveled solo — over 26 countries, almost all 50 states. And the things I remember aren't just landmarks. They're people.

The family running a small hotel in the shadow of the pyramids in Egypt, who treated a stranger like a son. A scooter rental guy in Indonesia just trying to keep up and provide for his family. A photographer in Milan. A teacher in Venezuela. A woman whose boat sank between Vietnam and Hong Kong while she was trying to reach a refugee camp — who survived, and told me about it like it was just one chapter of many.

Billions of pieces of content get posted every day online, and none of it carries what those conversations carried. Content is made for everyone, which is the same as no one.

So I'm building the most deliberately backwards thing I could think of. It's called Dear Stranger. Every month, members will get one real letter, physically mailed to them — a story from a stranger somewhere in the world. Paper. Envelope. Stamp. No app. No feed. Nothing to scroll.

Some letters come from submissions from people just like you all over the world. Anyone can share theirs. Some come from the people I've met throughout my life, the ones I never stopped talking to. And here's the part I care about most: membership money goes back to the strangers we publish. When we feature someone's story, we support them — and for the hotel family in Egypt or the teacher in Venezuela, that isn't a feel-good gesture, it's a direct impact on their lives and their families' lives.

We haven't mailed the first letter yet. We're launching soon. Right now you can do three things:

Share your story — write it, or record it right in your browser.

Call our anonymous line and just talk: +1 863 366 5685. No name needed, and we never see your phone number or location. It's truly anonymous.

Get notified — drop your email in the notify-me section below to know the moment the first-ever letter is ready to go out.

Somewhere out there is a stranger who needs exactly the words you've been keeping to yourself. Send them a letter with Dear Stranger.