In Destiny 2, there’s a group of enemies called The Scorn, an undead legion of motorcycle gangsters who run roughshod over the Tangled Shore, scaring those who dare enter their domain with lanterns aflame and steel chains whirling. They are called Scorn as a result of their deformed appearance, maladroit personality, and vengeful motivation.
To scorn is, according to Merriam-Webster, “to feel or express contempt or derision for.” Alternatively, it can mean “to refuse to do something because one is too proud.” Scorn comes from a place of superiority, whether given or just perceived, and it often connotes a sense of wrongness; when scorned, a person feels wronged by something or someone. Scorn creates the wrongness.
Even muttering the word “scorn” leaves a venomous taste in the mouth. Try it. It’s one of those words that sounds the way it ought to sound, where the emotion derived from its definition matches the word’s phonology. Gritted teeth, parsed tongue, an “n” sound that feels like it might go on forever.
Though unlikely, it is possible to feel scorn while also feeling scorned against, to look down upon something while simultaneously looked down upon by that same thing. A vindictive person, when scorned, can feel an unmatched sense of purpose towards their destination.
It should come as no surprise to those who read this blog that I belong to this category of scorned individuals. When you have given your most important possessions away, your health, your happiness, your sanity, your relationships, for one thing, and then to have that thing turn around and leave you alone to suffer the consequences, the anger that comes over you is unlike anything else. I wish it were easier to feel unmoved by this, but such an important and lasting part of one’s life can never be forgotten permanently. I will always remember the people who reached out to me when I was at my lowest, and I will always remember those who gossiped about my condition. I saw smiling faces on the walls of this place, faces I once knew but have not heard from in months. People who cared enough to say hello in the hallways, but not enough to ask what’s wrong.
Do I dare disturb the universe?