I was born in Italy on May 18, 1984 and came to America at the age of two. I am the eldest of three—having two younger sisters who were born here—and have lived most of my life in the State of New Jersey. I had the typical Italian-American upbringing: Catholicism, Sunday dinners, big get-togethers on holidays, and a strong emphasis on loving thy neighbor. My parents were very young when they had us, but did their best; I couldn’t imagine having three children in my early 20s—times were different back then in the 80s. I wasn’t really a troublemaker as a child, but I always felt detached from everyone around me and thought I didn’t belong in this world.
During my school years, I was very inquisitive and interested to learn, but the problem was, I wasn’t too interested in the subjects school had to offer me; I didn’t really bother to try, and I focused more on making friends and getting them to laugh, essentially becoming the class clown. I was the kind of person who was friends with everyone, belonging to no group or clique, despite yearning to find a place where I could belong. I never found that place.
Fast forward into my late teens.
After the 9/11 attacks, I felt this urge to go do something about the evils I had just witnessed on television. I signed up for the Marine Corps Delayed Entry Program at 17—designed to get suitable recruits acquainted and prepared for the service a year prior to their boot camp training—after actively seeking a branch of the military to join. Four days after my graduation from high school, I didn’t join my friends in a summer of fun before collage, I went straight to boot camp at Parris Island, South Carolina. I endured three months of Hell, but graduated as a United States Marine; I finally found the group I had been yearning to belong to: the few, the proud, the Marines. After going on leave to visit my family at home, I was ordered to go into specialized training: first, marine corps combat training (MCT); then Engineer School. I graduated at the top of my class as a Combat Engineer. I was assigned to 8th Engineer Support Battalion (ESB) at Camp Lejeune, North Carolina.
Just three months into my arrival at 8th ESB, my unit was deployed twice to Iraq—during Operation Iraqi Freedom and Operation Enduring Freedom—serving under the command of Major General J.N. Mattis. While supporting the infantry on the front lines, I witnessed the devastating power of our well-organized war machine; such experiences will never fade from my memory. However, I, like everyone else, thought this destruction was necessary to free the Iraqi people from oppression, and went on carrying out my duties. Despite being assigned to support the infantry, we were lucky enough to avoid direct combat with the enemy, only experiencing a few indirect attacks. All I can say is thankfully, I never killed anyone during my two tours and no one in my unit was killed, but there were are few times it certainly came close. Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for marines from another unit whom I saw get killed only a few meters in front of me; I can still hear their screams to this day.
After completing my four years of service, I was honorably discharged as a corporal—I should have been a sergeant but got a non-judicial punishment which cost me one rank. I was finally free from my bondage, and I remember smiling as I left the gates of Camp Lejeune, flipping the bird at my rear-view mirror and shouting at the top of lungs with joy. But things were far from over: my return to civilian life would prove to be difficult. Within months of being home, I began to experience symptoms of posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD), which affected my personal relationships and several other facets of my life. I developed a loss of interest in all matters, which led to a deep depression and a lack of focus and discipline to accomplish my goals. This led me to drop out of college twice—despite having a 3.83 GPA and getting accepted to Rutgers University—along with being unable to maintain any job. All this was exacerbated after learning the fact that the entire war and my service was based on lies. This led me to escape that reality by living a pleasure-seeking, hedonistic lifestyle: chasing women at the clubs and engaging in self-destructive behavior. However, there was still a part of me buried deep within that was trying to find balance and it led me to the self-help world. I wanted to learn what was wrong with me and put an end to it. I eventually discovered the world of neuro-linguistic programming (NLP), and studied it for two years, graduating from the Center for Positive Change and Hypnosis in New York, as a Master NLP practitioner. NLP seemed to have help me put an end to some of my self-destructive behaviors, and I wanted to help others do the same. I opened a small life-coaching business, but like everything else in my life at that time, that, too, was short lived, thanks to PTSD.
Despite my ongoing battle with PTSD, I always maintained my curious nature, which led me to more research on everything I could about myself and the world—from philosophy and science, to historical revisionism and conspiracy theories—in an attempt to continue to find the solution to what I was going through and truly understand what kind of world we really lived in. I devoured any and all information that captured my newfound interest, and was not shy to share those findings with others. I built a large following on social media as a controversial figure known for my uncensored, politically incorrect rants, and on and offline activism. For a brief moment in my life, I was the chairman of the National Youth Front—a White identitarian group that focused on combating anti-White hatred on American college campuses—which made me many enemies, but taught me a lot about myself and others.
Years later, I had a spiritual epiphany that led to me reexamine my religious and political views. I abandoned my belief system and transcended identity politics completely.