536.

So quickly, ten years went by. Yet she was still able to find the exact spot of that old, raw wound.

535.

When will be her turn to step off this mortal coil?

534.

The year loomed again in front of her, threatening to repeat itself to the most minute detail.

533.

Remember when she said she wasn't hungry? Well, she was lying.

532.

Am I content only with her pictures?

531.

Who did he write for? He wasn't sure. Probably only for himself and nameless strangers.

530.

She leaned forward to sip; it was restrained by cord.

529.

She tried her new legs.

528.

One of these days, he would touch his face and know that he is finally home.

527.

The posts ran into themselves, cross-eyed and muddled, yet somehow, a genuine comment slipped through. Thank you.

526.

Don't you see? Your name is written on the palms of my hands, on old school foolscap papers, on the flesh of my heart.

525.

He seemed intent on smiling.

524.

He made a pact never to break his promise. He became a liar.

523.

Today, forever, always, she would remember the Christmas of 2005.

522.

Her head throbbed. She heard the watch chime away the hours. She was on the mountain that steals sleep.

521.

Step after step after step, a steep spiraling stairway to hell.

520.

Clicking on link after link made her feel at home, finally.

519.

The mouse died.

518.

The sweat dripped from her chin, falling on the elliptical machine.

517.

The spider was black, larger than her hand, and it spun a web that hung from the overhead bridge to the bougainvillea plant.

516.

Why are there shopping bags in the toilet bowl? How am I supposed to pee like this?

515.

Life is bloody hard sometimes.

514.

Long and scary into the night.

513.

She wrote her own dreams.

512.

Watch it echo. It bounces off the walls, flaking into pieces, and then you are left with this -- the hollow of a cup.

511.

Swearing is cathartic. But like an orgasm, ultimately empty.

510.

Either train, mountain, flight, beach, it was all a red brick wall.

509.

He wanted to rant. But because he couldn't, he wrote this with loud angry keystrokes.

508.

Something stirred inside him, whipping up the thoughts that have settled over years of habit. He cried as a baby.

507.

When he read it, he imagined that she would go, but not in that way.

506.

Hello, nothing, just wanted to hear your voice that's all, okay, bye.

505.

Three people, three segments in her dream.

504.

She wrote and deleted with surprising alacrity.