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From: Legion [Email him]
I've been a reader of your publication for some time; I've always found respite in the wise words from the editors but particularly the other readership, to confirm that perhaps one is not alone.
I've lived most of my life with the realization that I am of a dying breed, lamentably quite literally; few of my peers care for or even acknowledge the circumstances of the rights and future (what little shall remain) of Indigenous Europeans. Too many teenagers today seem consumed with frivolities, they're either too wealthy to observe the vast shift in demographics or too poor and/ or ignorant to care.
I've come from a poor family, the expression "two pay checks from poverty" can never be truly appreciated until you actually are, but we make do. My father worked hard, not through affirmative action or government hand outs but from an honest day's pay from an honest day's work. He came to this country, with the clothes on his back and not a word of English, today each of my brothers are enlisted proud members of our nation's armed forces and undergraduates at colleges or universities. So I catch the train into university, crammed inside a humid car where one will struggle to find another English speaker, a preview of the future of my nation.
My grandfather's generation knew that their culture was worth fighting, and in some cases killing and dying for in the great European civil wars of the last century. Few my age really appreciate that the society we have inherited was fought for and built from the sweat and blood of European descended men. Though since my enlistment, the more I see of this multicultural melting pot and degenerate youth, the more I resolve that there is very little that warrants fighting for in this country, at 22 I find myself at a crossroads.
I've pursued Conservative movements, only to conclude that they are Neo-Cons whom only care for "Conserving" the free market and not Indigenous Europeans, as if the free market is actually being threatened. One does not wish to a develop bitterness but the ironic opposition from the people one wishes to protect does provoke one to develop a feeling of frustration.
My question from here: where does one go?
[James Fulford notes: Because he's a junior enlisted man, the reader is not even saying which (Anglospheric) nation he's writing from. The fact that it's a multicultural melting pot with symptoms of degeneracy isn't a clue—they're all like that.]