[*] Angel of Tars writes:

> Frank B. wrote:

> ........but somehow you're doomed.

> The really remarkable part is that she's been SO DOOMED for at least ten years. You'd think it would have caught up with her by now, but no.

> Must be exciting, always one step ahead of doom that way.

Doom is chic only when it is continuous, when it goose-steps swaggeringly at your side, with a non-stop howl of glee that you would recognize as your own voice if only you could talk at all.

Doom does not pursue. Doom is the prey; we are the predators. Or vice-versa. Doom has no reason to flee.

Doom travels in circles. It cares not whether its path is a ring of hell or an angel's halo. Always coming, always going, always where it's been before. Doom is where you want it to be, or it will be there soon.

Doom is your companion, your friend, your lover, your secret, your aura, your breath of life, your essence, your mother, your child, your heart and soul, your home, your escape, your shadow, your substance, your present, past, and future. All other things are yours and yours alone, but that, too, is your doom.

Doom is a vulture, pecking at your eyes that cannot see, at your tongue that cannot talk. Doom returns your vital substance to the cycle of nature, so that what was once part of you can once again become part of you. You will know that doom has taken something vital from you, but you will never know what it was, and you will never know when it has returned.

Doom's laughter rings hollow in your ears. Doom has heard it all before; doom has known nothing new for aeons. Neither hope nor hunger nor rage nor fear will ever change doom. Doom has its job to do. That's all. But that's enough, isn't it?