Confusion. That's what I am currently experiencing. I used to believe that I was a self-assured and secure person, but now I'm not so sure anymore. From the countless times that I've been left feeling vastly empty and irrelevant, to the endless times that I've found myself searching for answers to unanswerable questions. I am confused. So what exactly am I confused about? Well, the cold hard truth, is that I am unsure myself. There is no specific person or object or aspect that I am confused about. I am just purely confused.

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The poor thing had followed a Marine from the wharf to the deck of the aircraft carrier; someone had put a leash on it and of course he was named Devil. He was the mascot for the Bravo Company and even the officers pretended not to see. And even if the Sailors had said anything, a Marine or twenty would have made sure they forgot, quick.

Devil Dog was a mutt, a half-starved thing that a Marine on leave had tossed a bit of bread at, to impress the pretty Australian broad on his arm. The Marine didn't get the...

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He stared at his reflection in the water for a long moment. He studied his eyes (the same dark brown that they had always been), the breeze rustling his sandy blond hair, the chisled, strong shape of his face. As he stared, trying to make sense of who was really staring back at him out of those deep brown eyes, the face began to change. The water that moments before had acted as his mirror now rippled and swirled, captivating his attention. He watched as the water changed his reflection to appear not as a young man with brown eyes...

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He was absent. Again. The kid would only show up on test days - on which he performed well enough. But that wasn't the point. All the other students showed up every day, and worked earnestly. And taught each other. And applied the concepts. He would pass the exams but forget all the material down the road. It would be like most of the bright students - playing with ideas. Treating it all as a show - as a game. Show up to perform. Wasting their talent. Lacking direction. Lacking any real purpose. Where was the kid going to get...

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Raisins are evil. They just don't belong... anywhere really. They're grapes that couldn't make it and have a second chance as rai-sins... that's right. Sins. You read it right. You have to admit that it's pretty strange that sins is right there in raisins. They're evil little wanna bes that wreak havok on all things good and wholesome. Cinnamon buns for instance. What's worse in a cinnamon bun than raisins? Nothing! Raisins are the poops of the fruit world! And they end up in your cinnamon bun like little turds. Little fruit turds that have to be picked around and...

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Travel light, but take everything with you. Words that my grandmother used to say in wisdom. And words that I've never take to heart till now. The twister ripped though our neighborhood and everything I owned was taken with it. My Children and wife stand now where our Kitchen was. With a heavy sigh, I remember those words my Grandmother used to say, I truly have all I need standing in the kitchen.

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"I think we need to take the Easter eggs back," Gerald said.
Louise looked up from placing an Easter bunny on a table. "Why's that?"
"Because one just hatched."
Louise frowned, crossing the room to where Gerald was coddling a small bird in his hands. She was hoping for some kind of explanation, which proved to be difficult to do when he looked more confused than she did.
"What do you mean," Louise said, rubbing the back of her head, "when you say that it hatched?"
"Well, I was getting some of the eggs out for the hunt, right? And...

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Wet asphalt sparkling under the white sky. There is a yawn of blue. Sometimes fall is brighter than summer, more alive with moisture and energy. Some things are dying, but many things end like fireworks.

We can be categorized in many ways. Let's divide us into the standing, the sitting and the reclining for the time being. Then let us separate into summer minds, winter minds, spring minds, fall minds.

You're going to yawn. You're going to stretch your eyes.

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The traitor looked at the girl with caramel coloured eyes through the bars of her cell. His glance paused at her bare breasts, then travelled up to meet her shimmering gaze.
"All you had to do was look the other way, and run with the rest of them," he said. "But no. Your stubborn principles got in the way and look where they have brought you."
The girl stared at him, whishing daggers in his eyes, his heart and his groin.
"Now, now," he said. "You don't seem too receptive to the guards advances. It's a shame, things would be...

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The sheep were at pasture. The air was still and crisp, silent but for the rustle of leaves and the drift of a "baa" from the content grazers.

Restless, I turned my eyes to the mountains that were the backdrop of the field, letting my eyes rove over the gray craggy slopes up to the snowy white caps that scraped at the belly of the sky. I felt the chill creep up my spine.

Adventure stretched just beyond these fences. One day, I would become more than this, more than a humble shepard. One day, I would scale those mountains...

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