I Won the Game But Still Fear Losing: How a Brooklyn Kid Turned Ocean Games Into Therapy

H1: I Didn’t Come for the Prize—I Came to Survive

I grew up in a tiny Brooklyn apartment where my mom played jazz on the stove and my dad quoted Nietzsche between laundry loads. We weren’t rich. But we had rhythm.

H2: The First Time I Felt Safe Was When My Controller Broke

It was 3 a.m., after my fifth failed run in ‘Starlight Key.’ No one cheered. Just me, headphones on, watching pixels fade like waves crashing against the screen. The game didn’t care if I won—it cared if I showed up. That’s when I realized: this wasn’t strategy. It was survival.

H3: The Deep Sea Isn’t Out There—It’s Inside You

They sold us ‘glory’ like candy wrapped in neon ads. But real treasure? It was quiet. I started journaling my RPT scores like poetry. ‘Why do you keep playing when you’re tired?’ That question became my anchor. Not every player gets a badge. But every soul who sits still… gets to breathe.

H2: They Called It Gaming. I Called It Healing

The algorithm said ‘high volatility = high risk.’ I said ‘high vulnerability = high humanity.’ My therapist never mentioned RTP. But she asked: ‘What does your heart chase when no one’s watching?’ So now? I design games that don’t reward wins. They reward presence. And sometimes… that’s enough.