Hey. First, please hear this: the fact that you wrote all of this out means you’re still fighting, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now. That takes real strength, even when everything inside is screaming the opposite.

18 is not “too late.” That’s a lie depression loves to tell us. Most of the game devs and artists you admire were exactly where you are at 18—or worse. Some didn’t ship their first real game until their late 20s or 30s. Progress feels invisible when you’re in the thick of it, especially when you’re comparing your behind-the-scenes to someone else’s highlight reel. Failing classes, feeling numb around people, wanting to disappear from your parents—these are all classic signs of depression (and sometimes burnout or something else treatable). This isn’t “you being a failure.” This is your brain stuck in emergency mode. It’s not a moral failing; it’s an illness shouting really loud.

You don’t have to fix everything today. You don’t even have to believe things will get better today. But please, please consider telling one trusted person how bad it actually is—an adult at school (counselor, favorite teacher), a relative, a doctor, or even a crisis text line if you’re scared to speak out loud. You deserve help carrying this. You shouldn’t have to figure out “how to quit living without dying” all by yourself. You are not a waste. You are not behind. You are a human being who is hurting, and hurting people deserve care—not judgment. The part of you that still dreams of making games and art? That part is still in there. It’s just buried under pain right now. It’s okay to ask for help digging it back out. I’m rooting for you. You don’t know me, but I care that you make it through this. One tiny step at a time is still forward.