{"submission_id":"311140","keywords":[{"keyword_id":"6701","keyword_name":"changeling","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"3030"},{"keyword_id":"4222","keyword_name":"depression","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"689"},{"keyword_id":"1979","keyword_name":"fae","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"307"},{"keyword_id":"123","keyword_name":"female","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"519842"},{"keyword_id":"9084","keyword_name":"loneliness","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"155"},{"keyword_id":"165","keyword_name":"male","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"639789"},{"keyword_id":"33573","keyword_name":"serge wolf","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"174"},{"keyword_id":"451","keyword_name":"skunk","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"17986"},{"keyword_id":"18759","keyword_name":"therapy","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"76"}],"hidden":"f","scraps":"t","favorite":"f","favorites_count":"1","create_datetime":"2012-10-10 04:08:54.534697+02","create_datetime_usertime":"10 Oct 2012 04:08 CEST","last_file_update_datetime":"2012-10-10 03:59:58.166994+02","last_file_update_datetime_usertime":"10 Oct 2012 03:59 CEST","username":"SergeSkunk","user_id":"4315","user_icon_file_name":"145868_SergeSkunk_serge_ico_300.gif","user_icon_url_large":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/usericons/large/145/145868_SergeSkunk_serge_ico_300.gif","user_icon_url_medium":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/usericons/medium/145/145868_SergeSkunk_serge_ico_300.gif","user_icon_url_small":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/usericons/small/145/145868_SergeSkunk_serge_ico_300.gif","file_name":"399562_SergeWolf_alone.doc","file_url_full":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/files/full/399/399562_SergeWolf_alone.doc","file_url_screen":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/399/399562_SergeWolf_alone.doc","file_url_preview":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/399/399562_SergeWolf_alone.doc","thumbnail_url_huge":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/399/399562_SergeWolf_alone.jpg","thumbnail_url_large":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/399/399562_SergeWolf_alone.jpg","thumbnail_url_medium":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/399/399562_SergeWolf_alone.jpg","thumb_huge_x":"200","thumb_huge_y":"200","thumb_large_x":"200","thumb_large_y":"200","thumb_medium_x":"120","thumb_medium_y":"120","files":[{"file_id":"399562","file_name":"399562_SergeWolf_alone.doc","file_url_full":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/files/full/399/399562_SergeWolf_alone.doc","file_url_screen":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/399/399562_SergeWolf_alone.doc","file_url_preview":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/399/399562_SergeWolf_alone.doc","mimetype":"application/msword","submission_id":"311140","user_id":"4315","submission_file_order":"0","full_size_x":null,"full_size_y":null,"screen_size_x":null,"screen_size_y":null,"preview_size_x":null,"preview_size_y":null,"initial_file_md5":"6a40cbb3873d6a4a8d02ba4781197de5","full_file_md5":"6a40cbb3873d6a4a8d02ba4781197de5","large_file_md5":"","small_file_md5":"","thumbnail_md5":"022fc9d1ba97819231a4b775b78c3feb","deleted":"f","create_datetime":"2012-10-10 03:59:58.166994+02","create_datetime_usertime":"10 Oct 2012 03:59 CEST","thumbnail_url_huge":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/399/399562_SergeWolf_alone.jpg","thumbnail_url_large":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/399/399562_SergeWolf_alone.jpg","thumbnail_url_medium":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/399/399562_SergeWolf_alone.jpg","thumb_huge_x":"200","thumb_huge_y":"200","thumb_large_x":"200","thumb_large_y":"200","thumb_medium_x":"120","thumb_medium_y":"120"}],"pools":[],"description":"This was something I've been wanting to write for a long time. It's about my character Bartholomew \"Serge\" Alexander, I guess you could call this little piece of fiction a thought experiment, as it's rather personal for me as well concerning some of my own issues. If you are curious, this story takes place in my own Sonic the Hedgehog fan-fiction series, The Dark Sonata, so I really hope you enjoy what you read.","description_bbcode_parsed":"This was something I've been wanting to write for a long time. It's about my character Bartholomew "Serge" Alexander, I guess you could call this little piece of fiction a thought experiment, as it's rather personal for me as well concerning some of my own issues. If you are curious, this story takes place in my own Sonic the Hedgehog fan-fiction series, The Dark Sonata, so I really hope you enjoy what you read.","writing":"Alone\nWritten by: Serge Wolf\n\nI could hear the sound of the clock constantly ticking, each note a second of time passing away from me as I laid down on the rather comfortable leather sofa. Tick-tock, tick-tock. The echo was my only companion as I relaxed and waited for the doctor to arrive. She wasn’t late. No, I was early. I was always early to our sessions. It had caught her off guard the first few times, but she proved able to adapt to the nature of my arrival despite how she couldn’t manage to figure out just how I was able to make my way to the room without being seen or heard by anyone or anything. She simply refused to believe me when I told her all I did was ask for permission from the doorways. That was okay though. I didn’t need her to believe me and that wasn’t really why I was seeing a therapist in the first place. No, I was seeing her because I knew there was something fundamentally wrong with me on a deep personal level. I needed help and there wasn’t really anyone I knew personally who could objectively analyze and help me work through this problem of mine.\n\nThe sound of the door opening and closing broke the relative silence that had been keeping me and the clock company, which was soon followed by the sound of her footsteps as she made her way to her desk, arranged her things and got herself organized. I didn’t need to look at her to know what she was doing and she didn’t need to look at the sofa I was on to see I was here. I closed my eyes and chose to remain quiet for a few more minutes before she finally spoke. Her soft voice shattering the peace between us like a precious crystal shattering under the waves of a tuning fork.\n\n“It’s a pleasure to see you again Mr. Alexander, I hope you have been doing well since our last session. I wasn’t certain if you were going to schedule for another one after that last outburst you had, but I’m glad to see that you decided to anyway. You’ll be happy to know I made sure the thermostat was fixed and the room is well cooled,”\n\nThat was one of the things I both liked and hated about her. She was thoughtful, caring and learned quickly, remarkably quickly. So much so that it surprised even me. However, the way she always started like that made it sound like she could anticipate my actions and behaviors. As though since our last encounter she was prepared for anything else I might throw at her, figuratively, of course. Though I felt the heat of embarrassment rise to my cheeks as recalled our last session. I had been describing how there were times I doubted if I was even who I thought I claimed to be, and not some imposter who had the same thoughts and feelings as the person I thought I was. After all I had already encountered that with someone who thought they were me and not what they really were and as a result of that they had gotten violent and attacked me. It certainly didn’t help me to know that I personally knew that there were others like me who shared similar experiences as mine and who felt or were feeling the things I did, and still do from time to time. \n\nI had been getting angry, really angry. So much so that every word she had been saying seemed to mock the pain and uncertainty I felt. I had been yelling about how hot the room felt, as though I was literally melting. She had been trying to tell me just the opposite while I was ranting. That the room itself was somehow becoming colder till finally her air conditioning unit froze solid and malfunctioned throughout the entire building. Ashamed that I had lost control of my emotions, I turned tail and ran away. Away from her judgment, from my behavior, and what I had done. \n\nWhen I had called her to schedule another appointment, she didn’t sound too surprised but rather happy I had called at all. After that, we made the arrangements, and it was like everything was back to normal before my loss of control. \n\n“Since we last talked about your troubles over your identity and who you feel you are, I’d like to start right where we last left off if you don’t mind and get right to the heart of the matter. Can you tell me Bartholomew, how does that make you feel?” she asked, her young voice sweet and innocent, yet full of analytical prowess, to draw a sense of comfort and establish a point of understanding and power. If she felt like she was ready to know how it made me feel to get right down to the heart of my problem, who was I to argue?\n\nI opened my eyes and took a deep breath, feeling my fist close up and tighten as I tried to muster the strength to begin sharing my utmost personal and private feelings. To give shape to words that no living soul before today would never have heard come from me. \n\nI heard the clock chime to let me know that officially our session had begun and then spoke for the first time since I had called her to let her know I still desperately needed her help.\n\n“To try and find the right words to describe how I feel doctor, is a challenge that most authors and poets have desperately tried to do for aeons. For to do so, would give a physical form to the beast, nay the monster, that drives them forward. Ultimately, my feelings on the matter stem from the disassociation of my identity of who I once was, who I am now, and who I will continue to be or become in the unknowable future that lies ahead of us. To do so would give The Others an incomprehensible reason for their actions as to why they chose to torment me and others like me and to do so would most certainly be able to do justice to those who have suffered similar trials and tribulations such as my own…” \n\nI found myself sitting upright slowly, as though my entire body were gripped by some uncontrollable force that both horrified and thrilled me. Slowly I stood up from the sofa and made my way to a rather large decorative mirror and starred at the creature before me.\n\nThe therapist was seeing nothing more than a young male skunk-morph in his middle twenties who had dyed the bangs and highlights of his hair blue. A skunk that was dressed in a comfortable outfit that consisted of a pair of black slacks, a blue short-sleeve tee shirt with a white long-sleeve tee shirt underneath it and a pair of square black frame prescription glasses in front of a pair of sapphire blue eyes.\n\nBut I saw the truth in the reflection of the mirror. I could see the creature that I truly was, that only myself and other likes me could see. We all shared familiar aspects and elements of what made us alike, but we were all completely unique in our appearance and mental stability as a result of what we had been forced to become.\n\nStanding in the reflection of a mirror was something that resembled the skunk morph. Instead of black and white fur. It was a strange inversion gone wrong. It’s fur was a soft white like just fallen snow, and it’s stripe was now a pale icy blue. Gone away was any semblance of hair, instead it was replaced by what appeared to be a long yet strangely flowing and malleable solid mass of icy blue crystals that traveled midway down it’s back. There even appeared to be little pieces of solid ice clinging to it’s elbows and knees. The reflection starred back at me not with eyes, but rather solid orbs of pure otherworldly sapphire light. The clothes were different as well, instead it wore a strange pair of blue pants that seemed to carry with it a kind of transparent opaque quality and a black tribal vest made from the same strange material as it’s pants. \n\nThat was what I really was…despite what the doctor and anyone would see. I could feel just how different I was from what I used to be or so I thought I used to be. I knew what I looked like to them because I could will myself to see the illusion, or mask if you will, as I saw fit. It was just another echo of the past that would haunt me at my own personal desire whenever I wanted to look in a mirror.\n\nI couldn’t stop starring at the reflection, the truth of what I was, not who I thought I used to be or who I wanted to change back into. With a deep barely controlled breath I finally began to speak again.\n\n“You want to know how I feel doctor? As I said before, there are no real words I can say to show you just what it is that haunts me so. But I will speak as plain as a snowflake falling to the ground to become as indistinguishable from the rest.”\n\nI snapped, I lost control once more, but it was different than last time. I stood there beginning to sob uncontrollably. The cold tears ran down my face and I cried as I forced the words I feared to hear with my own voice.\n\n“I am one of the Lost, Doctor. I lost what made me who I am, and instead have been shaped into a monster that defies understanding or logic. It makes me feel horrible and sad all the time. Despite knowing there are other who have shared similar experiences to my own, they can never truly understand my pain and loss. Doctor, I am a stranger to those who know me and to myself. In my desperation I find myself clinging to what is comfortable and not the truth because I fear to say it…I am so lonely. So scared of what I am and what I could become. I am so miserable in my solitude…to be as alone as I am…”\n\nI couldn’t hear the ticking of the clock anymore as the sound of my tears and sobbing filled the room. Even though I was trying to explain how I felt and what was inside, I knew on some fundamental level, it sounded like the incomprehensible gibberish of a xenophobic madman. I lost the track of time as I cried standing in front of the mirror, gasping out in fear as I suddenly felt myself being touched by an unfamiliar presence. I tried to recoil to pull away but found myself physically unable.\n\nWhile I had been drowning in my sorrow, my therapist had moved from her desk and given me a tight hug. It was a little awkward since she was shorter than myself, but I managed to relax as my sobbing slowed down and she spoke above my tears.\n\n“No, Bartholomew, you are not alone…you are never alone as long as you have the company of those who love and cherish you despite how bad you may think things are... \n","writing_bbcode_parsed":"Alone
Written by: Serge Wolf

I could hear the sound of the clock constantly ticking, each note a second of time passing away from me as I laid down on the rather comfortable leather sofa. Tick-tock, tick-tock. The echo was my only companion as I relaxed and waited for the doctor to arrive. She wasn’t late. No, I was early. I was always early to our sessions. It had caught her off guard the first few times, but she proved able to adapt to the nature of my arrival despite how she couldn’t manage to figure out just how I was able to make my way to the room without being seen or heard by anyone or anything. She simply refused to believe me when I told her all I did was ask for permission from the doorways. That was okay though. I didn’t need her to believe me and that wasn’t really why I was seeing a therapist in the first place. No, I was seeing her because I knew there was something fundamentally wrong with me on a deep personal level. I needed help and there wasn’t really anyone I knew personally who could objectively analyze and help me work through this problem of mine.

The sound of the door opening and closing broke the relative silence that had been keeping me and the clock company, which was soon followed by the sound of her footsteps as she made her way to her desk, arranged her things and got herself organized. I didn’t need to look at her to know what she was doing and she didn’t need to look at the sofa I was on to see I was here. I closed my eyes and chose to remain quiet for a few more minutes before she finally spoke.  Her soft voice shattering the peace between us like a precious crystal shattering under the waves of a tuning fork.

“It’s a pleasure to see you again Mr. Alexander, I hope you have been doing well since our last session. I wasn’t certain if you were going to schedule for another one after that last outburst you had, but I’m glad to see that you decided to anyway. You’ll be happy to know I made sure the thermostat was fixed and the room is well cooled,”

That was one of the things I both liked and hated about her. She was thoughtful, caring and learned quickly, remarkably quickly. So much so that it surprised even me. However, the way she always started like that made it sound like she could anticipate my actions and behaviors. As though since our last encounter she was prepared for anything else I might throw at her, figuratively, of course. Though I felt the heat of embarrassment rise to my cheeks as recalled our last session. I had been describing how there were times I doubted if I was even who I thought I claimed to be, and not some imposter who had the same thoughts and feelings as the person I thought I was. After all I had already encountered that with someone who thought they were me and not what they really were and as a result of that they had gotten violent and attacked me. It certainly didn’t help me to know that I personally knew that there were others like me who shared similar experiences as mine and who felt or were feeling the things I did, and still do from time to time.

I had been getting angry, really angry. So much so that every word she had been saying seemed to mock the pain and uncertainty I felt. I had been yelling about how hot the room felt, as though I was literally melting. She had been trying to tell me just the opposite while I was ranting. That the room itself was somehow becoming colder till finally her air conditioning unit froze solid and malfunctioned throughout the entire building. Ashamed that I had lost control of my emotions, I turned tail and ran away. Away from her judgment, from my behavior, and what I had done.

When I had called her to schedule another appointment, she didn’t sound too surprised but rather happy I had called at all. After that, we made the arrangements, and it was like everything was back to normal before my loss of control.

“Since we last talked about your troubles over your identity and who you feel you are, I’d like to start right where we last left off if you don’t mind and get right to the heart of the matter. Can you tell me Bartholomew, how does that make you feel?” she asked, her young voice sweet and innocent, yet full of analytical prowess, to draw a sense of comfort and establish a point of understanding and power. If she felt like she was ready to know how it made me feel to get right down to the heart of my problem, who was I to argue?

I opened my eyes and took a deep breath, feeling my fist close up and tighten as I tried to muster the strength to begin sharing my utmost personal and private feelings. To give shape to words that no living soul before today would never have heard come from me.

I heard the clock chime to let me know that officially our session had begun and then spoke for the first time since I had called her to let her know I still desperately needed her help.

“To try and find the right words to describe how I feel doctor, is a challenge that most authors and poets have desperately tried to do for aeons. For to do so, would give a physical form to the beast, nay the monster, that drives them forward. Ultimately, my feelings on the matter stem from the disassociation of my identity of who I once was, who I am now, and who I will continue to be or become in the unknowable future that lies ahead of us. To do so would give The Others an incomprehensible reason for their actions as to why they chose to torment me and others like me and to do so would most certainly be able to do justice to those who have suffered similar trials and tribulations such as my own…”

I found myself sitting upright slowly, as though my entire body were gripped by some uncontrollable force that both horrified and thrilled me. Slowly I stood up from the sofa and made my way to a rather large decorative mirror and starred at the creature before me.

The therapist was seeing nothing more than a young male skunk-morph in his middle twenties who had dyed the bangs and highlights of his hair blue. A skunk that was dressed in a comfortable outfit that consisted of a pair of black slacks, a blue short-sleeve tee shirt with a white long-sleeve tee shirt underneath it and a pair of square black frame prescription glasses in front of a pair of sapphire blue eyes.

But I saw the truth in the reflection of the mirror. I could see the creature that I truly was, that only myself and other likes me could see. We all shared familiar aspects and elements of what made us alike, but we were all completely unique in our appearance and mental stability as a result of what we had been forced to become.

Standing in the reflection of a mirror was something that resembled the skunk morph. Instead of black and white fur. It was a strange inversion gone wrong. It’s fur was a soft white like just fallen snow, and it’s stripe was now a pale icy blue. Gone away was any semblance of hair, instead it was replaced by what appeared to be a long yet strangely flowing and malleable solid mass of icy blue crystals that traveled midway down it’s back. There even appeared to be little pieces of solid ice clinging to it’s elbows and knees. The reflection starred back at me not with eyes, but rather solid orbs of pure otherworldly sapphire light. The clothes were different as well, instead it wore a strange pair of blue pants that seemed to carry with it a kind of transparent opaque quality and a black tribal vest made from the same strange material as it’s pants.

That was what I really was…despite what the doctor and anyone would see. I could feel just how different I was from what I used to be or so I thought I used to be. I knew what I looked like to them because I could will myself to see the illusion, or mask if you will, as I saw fit. It was just another echo of the past that would haunt me at my own personal desire whenever I wanted to look in a mirror.

I couldn’t stop starring at the reflection, the truth of what I was, not who I thought I used to be or who I wanted to change back into. With a deep barely controlled breath I finally began to speak again.

“You want to know how I feel doctor? As I said before, there are no real words I can say to show you just what it is that haunts me so. But I will speak as plain as a snowflake falling to the ground to become as indistinguishable from the rest.”

I snapped, I lost control once more, but it was different than last time. I stood there beginning to sob uncontrollably. The cold tears ran down my face and I cried as I forced the words I feared to hear with my own voice.

“I am one of the Lost, Doctor. I lost what made me who I am, and instead have been shaped into a monster that defies understanding or logic. It makes me feel horrible and sad all the time. Despite knowing there are other who have shared similar experiences to my own, they can never truly understand my pain and loss. Doctor, I am a stranger to those who know me and to myself. In my desperation I find myself clinging to what is comfortable and not the truth because I fear to say it…I am so lonely. So scared of what I am and what I could become. I am so miserable in my solitude…to be as alone as I am…”

I couldn’t hear the ticking of the clock anymore as the sound of my tears and sobbing filled the room. Even though I was trying to explain how I felt and what was inside, I knew on some fundamental level, it sounded like the incomprehensible gibberish of a xenophobic madman. I lost the track of time as I cried standing in front of the mirror, gasping out in fear as I suddenly felt myself being touched by an unfamiliar presence.  I tried to recoil to pull away but found myself physically unable.

While I had been drowning in my sorrow, my therapist had moved from her desk and given me a tight hug. It was a little awkward since she was shorter than myself, but I managed to relax as my sobbing slowed down  and she spoke above my tears.

“No, Bartholomew, you are not alone…you are never alone as long as you have the company of those who love and cherish you despite how bad you may think things are...
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