Control: Life is Wrecked, Crumpled, Raw

Ultramarines for life! Ultramarines forever! I bathe in ultramarines, live ultramarines, sleep ultramarines, and even eat ultramarines breakfasts. I do nothing but ultramarines forever. I need this. I need a good, appropriate good guy army to play forever. Or at least six weeks. Six weeks is forever for someone as fucked-up crazy as me, anyway, and I’m in a mood to be critical. Watch the fuck out, world. Dalton’s on a rampage, rending with words, messing with truth. Truth hurts more often than it helps. Ultramarines are the space marine chapter that is the most traditional good guys for the game Warhammer 40k. They are a good space marine chapter that require skill and precision to play effectively. I have to genius that shit to win. Here’s the thing. The old space marine army had 40 or so guys. This one has 75 models. That’s a lot more models, and they are well-armed, with five grav cannons, six plasma guns, four meltaguns, two multi-meltas, three assault cannons, and more bolters than God. Seriously. I outbought God at the bolter store. One needs to fight to get better at everything in life. I need to genius that shit. I need to think hard about getting better at life. I need to get better at everything that I do and will ever do. I fight to get better at Warhammer 40k. I fight to dominate. I want to win. I want to be a legend at something. I want to play brilliantly. I want to think four steps ahead. I want to think intelligently about the plays before I make them. The steps ahead need to impress someone. They need to impress everyone. I need to impress people.

Why? My novella sold eight copies. That’s weak. It’s soft sales. It means that no one but my friends and family noticed the book. That’s a shame. I have to get better at writing and reading is the first step to that. I need to read more. I need to get an idea of what works effectively. That can then result in a larger audience.

Sounds simple…but it isn’t happening. I’ve been writing a blog for a year without building a huge audience. I sit in my messed-up room, soda cans and bottles all over, wargaming miniatures all over the place, books scattered around my room, card tables with stuff all over them, and I need to do something better. I need to overcome. I need to overcome everything holding me back in life.

I played a game briefly today, and then I slept. I sleep a ridiculous amount with these meds. It’s a problem, getting tired several times a day. It’s a real problem. I have strong meds because I, Dalton Lewis, have paranoid schizophrenia. I need to do better in life. I need to fight to overcome all the bullshit and the problems and the self-effacing bullshit preventing me from ascending.

I watched a movie today. XXX: the return of Xander Cage. It was the very definition of fair. It didn’t move me like it should have for a professional movie. I’m sorry. I love Vin Diesel. He moved me as Groot. He just didn’t move me as Xander Cage, and I know, explosions explosions bullshit. It wasn’t the point to move me. Well, maybe it should have been.

It should have been fun and meant something. It should have had real emotional connections between the characters, and I failed to feel that. So it was a failure. Then I went home and slept.

Do you see the problem here? I have no work responsibilities. I have no one telling me, Dalton, get some fucking work done. I have no one putting positive or negative pressure on me to get some more work finished and move the world with my perfect, precious words.

To sum up: I live a too-easy life. I live in a haze of sleep and fattening foods and no responsibility. It’s hard, having a debilitating mental illness that wrecks you, slams into you day after day, telling you that it’s the far future, that you’re dead, that you don’t matter, that your body has been stolen, that nothing matters, that everything matters, that life sucks and is inexorably fucked. And you know what? About that last point? The voices are dead-on right, perfect even. Life is fucked beyond all reason.

Life is fucked. Life. Is. Fucked. Everyone. Is. Fucked. And not in a good way. Everything ends up with entropy and death and damnation. I’m sorry. I wanted to be positive, but please…I work so hard, people work so hard, and so few of us make it in life. It’s depressing. Ah, fuck it. Live life to the fullest, the Sith code and all that. Do what needs to be done to live the greatest life of all time. Whatever that is for you, do it.

Thanks, and take care, friends.

Dalton Lewis wrote The Hauntings of Old Liberty High — a teen ghost story with heartbreak and passion. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B09FYQXDRZ