A small boy is rejected by his so called peers. They do not accept him, and he is branded as weird. Unable to understand the motives of such treatment, but nonetheless left to suffer in silence a seed is planted deep in the heart of this small lad. It lays dormant, waiting in the dark, forgotten and forlorn. Under normal circumstances such seeds are planted all the time, and never take root. They wither in the sun, and shrivel under the warmth of love and affection.
This fortunate kernel, however was given all that was needed to take hold of the fertile soil of the subconscious. For every time this small boy was treated thus, and it was often, life and sustenance was supplied to ripen its growth. Sadness, from losing friends, from being alienated, was like a summer rain. Resentment, with its vile stench, was the best fertilizer available. It wasnt until many years later did the weed previously unnoticed became a firm resident in the earth of the mind.
Suddenly aware of this budding presence, I realized it must be stifled, or it would grow to proportions that might become unmanageable. Through the constant barrage of negative energy, it grew stronger and stronger, and broke through various levels of my consciousness. Each time this happened I withdrew into a shell, a cocoon, only to emerge different, colder, distant, damaged.
In defense of this parasite, another ego was formed. This one protected myself and others from this invader. We may call it Lone Wolf X. This entity, was self sacrificing. It abandoned want and desire to prevent Skorn from getting stronger. Not without its negative qualities, it grew alongside the denizen and battled constantly with its progression.
The original boy, the real me, is lost between these two forces and to be perfectly honest, Im not sure he ever really grew up. Were Lone Wolf able to shed tears he would cry rivers for the boy. But that would only feed Skorn, and the Wolf must not cry.
The correlation with my current position is this: I dont think I am able to have fun. I dont enjoy much, if anything at all. I am masochistic. I hate. I shy away from relationships, and I detest socializing. I feed on affection and manipulate others, like a vampire. Skorn's contribution is more sinister. I feel like abandoning all friendships, I resent anyone who appears happy, I thrive on mischief, the tears of others make me feel justified. I am in a word Vile.
And the battle has shifted, Skorn has come out of the darkness which feeds its dark soul and the final insult has been thrown, the last injustice has been committed, and with a mighty roar I RAGE FORTH INTO THE LIGHT.
I am what you made me. Do not pity me, because I do not pity you. You will bask in the reflection of scorn and hate that mirrored into my mind. The age of Skorn has come once again.
