Someone asked Wolftale about my fursonas wings. Well? What about them? They're gone.
But that's hardly a satisfactory answer, is it?

The story begins roughly with my earliest memories in this life, where, one night, this unknown creature steps into my room, leans over my bed and introduces himself as "Joon". I was barely old enough to be able to form intelligible sentences at that point, so I never really made mention of that manifestation to my parents, but can now describe the being as an anthropomorphic, wolf-like creature with wings.
This being has stuck by my side ever since, basically, been in part or wholly under my control on lower levels of consciousness and been my manifestation on the astral plane (others have seen this as well). His presence used to be separate from mine when I was younger, "merging" with me on occasion, but mostly lingering within a certain radius of me and observing. Later in my teens, he's been more of a permanent part of me - I feel phantom limbs nearly constantly, and those limbs are shaped and jointed quite differently than my physical body.

If I am to believe in some west-asian, spiritual belief, this being is best described as my second soul - or rather the soul that found its place as the controller of my astral self. If I am to believe in modern psychology, it's basically just an imaginary friend that I created to better cope with my uncomfortable reality.

I've digressed. A lot.
As you may have guessed, Joon naturally became adopted and adapted as my fursona when I became aware of the furry community, cirka 1996. In '98 or '99, I had a series of nightmares. For a week straight I would wake up in great physical pain. While I had experienced psychosomatosis earlier (in various forms) that week was, at that point, one of the most painful things I had experienced (even surpassing the pain I had been in from having been beaten up/been in a bad fight). The nightmares were all different, yet the same. There were different faces/masks, but it felt as if it was the same entity that tormented me nightly.
I was lost, I was scared, I was trapped, I was pierced, I was bleeding out, I was asphyxiated, and so on and so forth - in no particular order or combination. One of the last nights with those nightmares my wings were broken and torn off by the hands of a faceless giant - all I remember are blazing eyes, that I shamefully admit to seeing myself with in a similar fashion from time to time.
From that night on, wings simply weren't a part of me anymore, apart from those stubs - jutting out as a sort of memento mori.
There have been dreams in more recent times where I see Joon with spectral wings, as a sort of "gone as soon as you blink"-thing.

If there's any real meaning behind it all is a question I ask myself at times. Mayhaps a sort of sign that I was never meant for reaching great heights, metaphorically or literally (though I have been atop some tall peaks in Norway, and even a glacier). Perchance a sort of reminder of mortality. Maybe just a scenario played out in my mind to work out some bottled up emotions from the stress of being bullied every single day of school and experiencing my parents' messy divorce.
Maybe I'm just crazy.

These days, given a better understanding of the world and having seen more of it, I more easily claim it's just an ode to imperfection. 'cuz, yanno, you like a person for who they are - but you love them for their flaws.