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Becoming the Inner Dark
Adult Bullying Part 3 of 3
© 2022 James LaFond
DEC/26/22
Anyway, this is all to say, that I lack the confidence in myself to do what you suggested in your other article about bullying.
[The first time you stab someone confidence will bloom. Find some blunt knives and fencing masks and a sparring partner.] 
I agree with you, a human knows when something is trying to kill it. and they know when someone is hesitant. 
Again, I've had to butcher animals and it hasn't phased me. in fact, it was invigorating to be doing something so primal.
[Bro, stabbing people is so much more fun! I hated killing rabbits and squirrels. But when men squeal like pigs—its great!]
Its just this underlying doubt that I can win.
[You don’t win. Planet Earth murders us all. But you can destroy unworthy souls as soon as you embrace the inner dark.]
Having not really won a fight, only had inconclusive scraps, I don't believe in my ability to push back against being dominated.
[You don’t push back, but let the big faggot think he is dominating you while you slice his balls in twain with your straight razor, as you slam you phillips head screwdriver into his liver, as you bite his fucking nose off and spit it into his mouth.]
If its for someone else, i would throw my life away without thinking. but i don't believe in myself.
[Once you have become one with the inner dark, you will be fighting for someone else, for the memory of that sweet boy that was cast into this seething hell.]
How do i change that?
[I think I’ve covered that. Knives, razors, shanks, daggers, framing hammers, claw hammers, ball peen hammers, screw drivers, a chisel in hand…]
I genuinely enjoy martial arts, and am not phased by pain. I'm quite competitive in everything else i do, its just that i've been so oppressed by being in these environments where im being picked on and sniped non stop, by people waiting for me to snap so they can roll me.
[After you stab them in the lung, make sure you yank it out, so they have a sucking chest wound.]
I never do, because I dont believe I can win (and until recently - due to all the rehab and training ive been doing - i most likely wouldn't have) In essence I still see myself as this feeble kid, despite having developed into a capable athletic man.
[After you stab them in the guts, twist, and cut your way out like cutting carpet to size.]
I've largely removed myself from these environments, but i still encounter these people. They see me as an easy target, or a pretty boy. They can sense that hesitation. Maybe its because I have somewhat of an agressive expression but im small. I've spoken to other friends about this and they believe that to be the case
[After you reach around and stab the kidney, pull it out so that he bleed out. If he is so amned fat that you don’t hit the blood well down there, stab higher up and go into the lung from behind under his shoulder blade.]
I also feel this a knot in my solar plexus. It is always tight and restricted and is pulling my posture down. its a sensation of powerlessness and frustation. I mention this because I know that any true explosive movment begins in the core.
[After you shank them, use their body as a post to get to their friend, even if that person is innocent, so that you can claim to have been attacked by the both of them.]
Its like I want to be able to let loose a devestating punch win or lose, but i doubt my ability to hurt someone who is much bigger than me so i freeze. Against someone my own size I generally don't feel this, unless they're clearly psychotic.
[Stab psychos in the neck, twist, and rip. Keep your mouth closed so you don’t get a mouthful of blood as you push him down and away with your checking hand and look for his back up.]
I am gradually correcting this with massage and body work, and as i mentioned before training my biomechanics and technique.
[Check out Andrew Edwards Warhorse podcasts for breathing exercises. Oh, and if his friends run, chase the slowest one and flip your blade into an ice pick grip and stab him on the run until he tires, then roll him over and cut his throat.]
What I am asking for help in is the mental game, something which you seem to know a lot about.
[The world hates you. The world will kill you. The least you can do in the mean time is kill one of the world’s pets who love it. When they get out of line and touch your inner dark, punish them for trespassing near your soul. This white cunt once called the pigs on me because I would not let two criminal Kangs rob me, and chose to butcher them instead. They pledd to the great Quean and she called in her thugs in blue. So I know, every time I shatter the confidence of some Gawdly Kang he will have a hard time getting his dick hard for his white slave mistress. Even if he is not her immediate sexual servitor, he is her avatar, driving the men like me she should be serving unto the defensive—Britannia Wore of Nations lives on in Modernity, as its transexual jape. Every time I shatter the psyche of some negro, Britannia quivers a little in the aggregate. I am fighting a metaphysical war against evil gods that rule this planet. Victory against Deontavious Chaminique means nothing, for he is nothing but an ebony vessel dispensing the wrath of the gods upon we the damned. But striking fear into his subhuman heart echoes up into the over dark to afflict the Bytch Gods with static, if just a single line off static to foul their symphony of damnation.]
How do I tap into that fury which I know is inside me but unable to express?
[Stab a motherfucker.]
How do I put that out that "dont fuck with me" demeanour and truly back it up.
[Spend a half hour a day hitting a punching bag with sticks.]
Because all i'm doing is alienating the nice people and attracting the shitty ones.
[The nice people aren’t worth shit and the shitty ones are pure shit. Become strong and quietly dark and strong ones will befriend you, weak ones will attend you and the shit will wash down the drains installed in this world as hopes, dreams and aspirations, the rocks of ill-fame placed here by the evil gods to wring from us shame.]
Thanks for your advice.
 [You really need to start stick fighting. Boxing and MMA are useful but too social. Do something that the MMA studs are afraid of. You need to haunt the darkness that abides in every sissy, faggot, bitch, punk, hood and shitbag that have been cast down into this hell so that we can clean their faces out of our boot treads.]
Thanks for this email—it has been very therapeutic. I’m ready for the gay day. Before your life ends I hope you get to butcher some beastman. Failing that, may you find yourself worshiped by some likely slut that swoons to her knees in your presence.
Finding the Inner Dark     ‹   modern combat   ›     Being Predated

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