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Why, oh why, do I love death fic like I do? Nothing makes me quite as happy (or sad, in a happy way) when my favorite characters bite the big one it, hopefully in as tragic and devastating a method as possible, leaving the survivors bereft and reeling.

Is it my psyche's way of dealing with my own anxiety about death? Trying to answer the big questions about why we're born, why we die and, hey, isn't this digital watch pretty neat?  Perhaps it's the catharsis? Or maybe I'm a closet sadist?

These are the questions that I'm not sure I want answers to.

December 2010

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