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Julian Reyes

Julian Reyes was a Puerto Rican-American documentary filmmaker and the founder of Resonance Films, a small, disability-centered production company based in Los Angeles that specialized in authentic, emotionally grounded documentaries focused on disability, chronic illness, and underrepresented stories. His most notable work is the documentary 《我还是我》/ I Am Still Me: A Minjae Lee Story, which premiered in March 2037 and was picked up by PBS for streaming. Julian lived with multiple chronic conditions including focal epilepsy, cyclic vomiting syndrome, chronic migraines, and suspected POTS and autism, and his lived experience with disability was central to the compassion and ethical rigor he brought to his filmmaking. Known to friends as "JR," he was in a relationship with Kayla Rossi, who served as producer and field coordinator at Resonance Films and had been his closest person since high school.

Early Life and Background

Julian was born and raised in the mainland United States, with family roots in Puerto Rico. He grew up bilingual in English and Spanish, though he leaned more English-dominant, with Spanish surfacing in specific contexts--family gatherings, moments of stress, or tenderness. His cultural heritage runs deep, giving him a warmth and quiet gravity that shapes both his personal life and his artistic sensibility.

His childhood was marked by the onset of epilepsy around age ten to twelve, which fundamentally shaped his understanding of his own body and its betrayals. The seizures were frightening and unpredictable, and the responses of those around him--ranging from dismissive to fearful--left lasting impressions. He was called dramatic. He was told epilepsy wasn't that serious. These early experiences planted the seed of what would become his life's work: telling the truth about disabled lives.

Julian also endured long-term emotional abuse during his formative years. The specifics remain largely private, but the damage was profound and lasting. The abuse was primarily emotional rather than physical, leaving deep psychological wounds that still manifest in his hypervigilance, his flinching at raised voices or sudden movements, and his chronic fear of being "too much" or not enough. He carries a quiet fearfulness that isn't weakness but rather the imprint of a nervous system wired to expect danger, especially from older men with sharp tones and strong opinions.

Education

Julian attended college but was unable to complete his degree due to repeated medical leaves. His epilepsy, migraines, and the constellation of chronic conditions that would later be identified made traditional academic paths nearly impossible. He couldn't finish a semester without a medical leave at least once, and the cumulative toll of fighting his body while trying to learn eventually forced him to step away.

Despite this, Julian's intelligence was evident to anyone who spent more than a few minutes with him. He was highly perceptive, articulate in his precision if not his volume, and possessed an emotional intelligence that made him exceptional at his craft. His education continued informally through filmmaking--he likely began with a documentary thesis or short film during his time in college that gained traction for its emotional honesty and quiet cinematography. That early work became the foundation for Resonance Films.

Personality

Julian was quiet but not passive. He spoke when it mattered, and when he did, people listened, because his voice carried a thoughtful gravity that commanded attention without demanding it. Even in silence, he was actively listening, processing, and observing with an intensity that could be startling when noticed.

He was deeply empathetic--especially attuned to pain and vulnerability--which made him extraordinary at his work but also left him chronically exhausted by it. He processed emotions internally, often on a delay, and rarely exploded. Instead, he simmered, carrying emotional weight privately until it surfaced in quiet, devastating ways. He was introspective to his core, frequently second-guessing himself and wrestling with questions of whether he was enough, whether his work mattered, whether he deserved the love and success that came his way.

His fear was not frantic or loud. It was quiet, subtle, laced into every movement--the slight flinch when someone raised their voice, the way his hands hovered too long before touching equipment, the breath that caught a second too long when someone seemed upset. He startled easily and hated that about himself. He lived with chronic vigilance, assessing every room, avoiding sudden touch, and retreating into the smallest possible space when overwhelmed.

Behind the camera, however, Julian transformed. Filming was the one time he felt solid, grounded, and present. The camera gave him control he didn't have over his own body--he could adjust the lighting, the volume, the pace. He could observe without being observed. This was where his ethical perfectionism shone: he had to get every story right, not just technically but morally and emotionally, because otherwise he would not forgive himself.

Despite the heaviness he carried, Julian possessed a quiet humor and a tenderness that drew people to him. He was emotionally brave in his storytelling, confronting hard truths through film because he believed raw, unfiltered stories could change perceptions. He had wanted to tell these stories since he was six years old.

Julian's deepest motivation is the dream he has carried since he was six years old: to tell disabled stories with truth, dignity, and compassion. He started Resonance Films in his bedroom because no one else was telling these stories the right way--not disabled stories, not chronic illness stories, not stories that honored the person without flattening their pain. Every film he makes is an act of defiance against a world that told him his own story was not worth telling.

His greatest fears were rooted in his trauma and his body: the fear of being too much, of not being enough, of exploiting the very people he was trying to honor. He feared his seizures, his nausea, his fragility. He feared being seen as weak. He feared that one day his body would stop him from doing the work that gave his life meaning. And underneath it all, he feared that the people who loved him would eventually decide he was too hard to love.

Cultural Identity and Heritage

Julian was Puerto Rican-American with family roots on the island, raised on the mainland where his bilingualism developed as heritage language rather than survival language—English dominant in daily life, Spanish surfacing in the contexts where it lives closest to the bone: family gatherings, moments of stress or tenderness, the involuntary reversion to mother tongue when illness strips away the energy required for code-switching. The faint Puerto Rican lilt tucked into his English—noticeable only when he's tired, emotional, or slipping into Spanish—marked him as someone whose cultural identity was embodied rather than performed, carried in the rhythms of his speech even when he wasn't conscious of it. His heritage gave him what he described as "warmth and quiet gravity," a sensibility that shapes both his personal relationships and his artistic eye—the instinct for emotional honesty, the refusal to flatten complexity, the understanding that stories worth telling require sitting with discomfort rather than resolving it prematurely.

Julian's experience of chronic illness intersected with his Puerto Rican identity in ways that compound both his vulnerability and his artistic mission. Latino men face particular cultural pressure around illness and disability: machismo traditions discourage acknowledging physical limitation, seeking help is coded as weakness, and the expectation of masculine endurance means that a young Latino man whose body regularly betrayed him—through seizures, through relentless vomiting, through the tremor in his hands—occupied a space that his culture's traditional masculinity framework had no comfortable category for. Julian's childhood experience of being called "dramatic" when his epilepsy symptoms emerged echoes the broader pattern of Latino patients being dismissed by medical systems that interpret cultural expressiveness as exaggeration and brown skin as reason for skepticism. His entire filmmaking career—telling disabled stories with truth and dignity, insisting that suffering was neither spectacle nor inspiration—grew from the intersection of these experiences: a Puerto Rican man who learned early that neither his culture's expectations nor the medical system's biases had space for who he actually was, and who decided to build that space himself through film.

Speech and Communication Patterns

Julian's voice was low, soft, and deliberate, often quieter than expected--you almost had to lean in to hear him. He didn't waste words, but when he spoke, there was intelligence and precision in his phrasing. When nervous, his words sometimes caught in his throat, as if snagged on old scars.

His voice carried a slight, permanent hoarseness--a rasp that came from years of chronic vomiting and acid reflux burning his throat raw. When he was tired or post-episode, the hoarseness deepened, sometimes cracking mid-word. When healthier, it was just a faint texture, like sandpaper under velvet. This gave him a delicate vulnerability when he spoke, even when his words were sharp or intellectual, and tended to make people lean in without realizing why.

A faint trace of a Puerto Rican accent was tucked into his English--not heavy, not stereotyped, but a lilt that emerged when he was tired, emotional, or slipping into Spanish. Most people heard his voice as neutral American English, but Kayla knew the undertones. He talked in his sleep--a lot--especially when fighting sleep and failing. His sleep-talk was slurred, emotional, and sometimes heartbreakingly earnest.

Health and Disabilities

Julian lived with a complex constellation of chronic conditions that interacted with and compounded one another, shaping every aspect of his daily life and work.

Focal Epilepsy with Secondary Generalization

Diagnosed in childhood, Julian's epilepsy began around age ten to twelve. His seizures often start as focal (partial) episodes--muscle stiffening, arm twitching, or dissociation--and sometimes progress into full tonic-clonic seizures. His triggers included bright flashing lights, extreme sleep deprivation, and emotional overload, which meant he had to be careful in the editing room and sometimes needed filters or assistants to preview raw footage. He sometimes experienced a warning aura (metallic taste, stomach drop) but not always. His medications mostly managed the condition, but he still had breakthrough seizures, particularly during high-stress periods. His postictal states leave him cognitively foggy, speech-slurred, and physically wiped. He retreated inward during recovery--quiet, still, with a haunted quality, as though his body was still bracing for the next blow.

Cyclic Vomiting Syndrome (CVS)

Julian's CVS caused episodic, brutal bouts of relentless nausea and vomiting that could last hours to days. Episodes were often triggered by stress, sleep deprivation, or emotional overload. He had mastered the art of throwing up quietly--so practiced it was terrifying--making only the faintest sounds that someone unfamiliar with his tells could easily miss. The cycles often begin subtly (nighttime reflux, morning nausea) before the full cycle hits, leaving him completely depleted, feverish, trembling, and unable to keep anything down. His temperature often spiked during episodes. Between episodes, he managed with careful eating, anti-nausea medications, and Kayla's steady support.

Chronic Migraines

Strongly linked to both his epilepsy and autonomic dysfunction, Julian's migraines were severe and sometimes indistinguishable from partial seizures. They brought light sensitivity, queasiness, and the kind of headaches that left him pale and squinting. He sometimes wore tinted lenses during editing sessions and kept blackout curtains wherever he slept.

Suspected POTS and Autonomic Dysfunction

Julian showed signs of postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome--lightheadedness, racing heart when standing, GI issues, sudden fatigue--though he may not have been formally diagnosed. This explained why he sometimes moved slowly or carefully, sat to film, and let Kayla carry heavier equipment.

GERD / Chronic Reflux

Chronic acid reflux compounded his other conditions, causing nighttime choking episodes, throat burn, and contributing to the permanent hoarseness in his voice. He ate carefully--soft foods, small portions, avoiding triggers--but stress still flattened him.

Suspected Autism and ADHD (Undiagnosed)

Julian showed signs of neurodivergence that may have been autism, ADHD, or both. There was a precision to the way he captured detail and a resistance to social small talk that felt distinctly ND. He hyperfocused while editing, sometimes to the point of forgetting meals or medications. He was sensory sensitive, especially to sound and light, and experienced executive dysfunction that made logistical tasks (scheduling, finances, emails) overwhelming without Kayla's support.

C-PTSD

Rooted in his history of emotional abuse, Julian's C-PTSD manifested as hypervigilance, people-pleasing, somatic symptoms (nausea, chest pain, dissociation) under pressure, nightmares, trouble sleeping, and a deep-seated fear that he was not enough. His trauma response made falling asleep feel unsafe--sleep meant loss of control, vulnerability, inability to anticipate danger. Even with Kayla beside him, his body fought shutting down because deep inside, he feared being "too much" if he let go.

Personal Style and Presentation

Julian was thin, almost willowy--someone easily described as fragile-looking at first glance. There was a wiry undertone to him, but illness and chronic conditions had worn his frame down. He stood around five-foot-seven to five-foot-eight and carried the kind of posture that leaned inward, as though unconsciously trying to take up less space. When nervous or overstimulated, he folded into himself even more.

His features were sharp but delicate--slender jaw, prominent cheekbones, a mouth that never quite relaxed. He looked younger than his age when calm, almost boyish, but when exhausted or in pain, he looked much older, hollow-eyed and worn. His gaze was penetrating when focused on someone but often softened into something more skittish, as if he wasn't sure he was allowed to look too long. His eyes were large, dark, and deeply expressive, carrying a weight that betrayed what his words did not.

His hair was dark, loose curls or waves that fell into his face--a bit unruly, never perfectly styled. The kind of hair that looked both artfully messy and like he had just gotten out of bed. His skin was medium-brown with warm undertones.

He dressed simply but with intention: neutral colors, soft fabrics, nothing flashy. Hoodies, worn jeans, canvas jackets, flannel shirts layered over t-shirts. Comfort came first, partly from sensory sensitivities and partly because illness made certain fabrics intolerable. His clothes were usually a little loose, not baggy but not form-fitting, emphasizing his slightness. He always looked neat even when pale and sickly.

His hands were bony, cool, with a slight tremor that lingered from medication and nerves. He fiddled with objects--camera straps, pen caps, sleeves--more often than he realized. He smelled faintly of coffee, clean laundry, and sometimes antiseptic or menthol depending on health flare-ups. His presence in a room felt low-volume--not loud, not commanding, but magnetic in its quietness. People noticed the silences around him as much as the words he chose to say.

Tastes and Preferences

Julian's preferences were governed by sensory necessity as much as aesthetic inclination. He dressed in neutral colors and soft fabrics—hoodies, worn jeans, canvas jackets, flannel shirts layered over t-shirts—because comfort comes first, partly from sensory sensitivities and partly because illness makes certain fabrics intolerable. His clothes are loose without being baggy, chosen to accommodate his slight frame without drawing attention. The effect is someone who looks neat even when pale and sickly, his personal style a quiet rebellion against the chaos his body inflicts.

His sensory world was carefully managed: tinted lenses during editing sessions to protect against light sensitivity, blackout curtains in his workspace, environments kept low-stimulation whenever possible. He smelled faintly of coffee, clean laundry, and sometimes menthol depending on health flare-ups—scents that had become his olfactory signature, the way people know Julian has been in a room. Food is navigated with extreme caution—soft foods, small portions, restaurants Kayla has vetted for safety—and Miss Shirley's stomach-friendly muffins, delivered when Julian is having a rough stretch, represent one of the few food pleasures that his body reliably permits. His deepest creative preference was the editing process itself, the hyperfocused hours of shaping footage that consumed him so completely that Kayla sometimes had to physically close his laptop to break the spell.

Habits, Routines, and Daily Life

Julian and Kayla live together in a small apartment in Los Angeles, where their neighbor Miss Shirley--an older woman in her early seventies--watches over them like adopted grandchildren, calling them her "sudokids" and delivering stomach-friendly muffins when Julian is having a rough stretch.

Julian's daily life revolved around managing his conditions while pursuing his work. He took multiple medications for his epilepsy, reflux, and migraines, and relied on Kayla for the logistical side of running Resonance Films—scheduling, finances, emails—because executive dysfunction made mundane tasks overwhelming. After intense shoots or editing sessions, he often crashes hard: CVS episodes, migraines, or sheer physical collapse.

Family and Core Relationships

Kayla Rossi

Main article: Julian Reyes and Kayla Rossi - Relationship

Kayla was Julian's partner, his anchor, and the person he had searched for every time he came back from a seizure since they were teenagers. They had been friends since high school and started dating a few months before the Minjae Lee documentary. Their bond was deep, intuitive, and fiercely protective in both directions. She was his safe person, and he was hers.

Isabela "Izzy" Rossi

Kayla's older sister Izzy had been a fixture in Julian's life since before he and Kayla were dating. She treated him like a kid brother, calling him "JR" and caring for him with a mix of teasing and fierce protectiveness. She had predicted Julian and Kayla's relationship for years before it happened and never let them forget it.

Romantic / Significant Relationships

Kayla Rossi

Main article: Julian Reyes and Kayla Rossi - Relationship

Julian and Kayla's relationship began as a high school friendship and evolved into romance a few months before the Minjae documentary. Despite limited financial resources, Julian quietly spoils Kayla--replacing her favorite Lush products when she runs out, making sure she has clothes she feels confident in, noticing the small things no one else does. Their love language is mutual care: she holds him through seizures and CVS episodes; he buys her citrus shampoo at 8:45 PM and pretends he only went out for his Zofran.

Minjae Lee

Main article: Julian Reyes and Minjae Lee - Relationship

Minjae was the subject of Julian's most significant documentary, ''I Am Still Me'', but the bond between them grew far beyond filmmaker and subject. Julian saw in Minjae someone navigating a body that betrayed him in ways Julian understood intimately, and Minjae--who called Julian one of his "movie friends" and could not always remember his name but always knew when he was missing--offered the kind of unguarded trust and affection that rearranged Julian's understanding of his own work and his own disability.

Memorable Quotes

"This one's gonna break me." -- In the van after the final day of filming with Minjae, tears falling silently

"He's not tragic. Just real. Brilliant. Funny. A husband. A musician. A person." -- At the documentary premiere, answering a reporter's question about what the film shows the world

"You're perfect, just like this." -- Quietly, to Minjae during filming, after Jae asked them not to edit out the hard parts

"Did good, right? For him?" -- Sleep-slurred, barely conscious in the car after the premiere, asking Kayla if he did right by Minjae

Characters Supporting Characters Living Characters Filmmakers Disabled Characters Puerto Rican Characters LGBTQ+ Allies