Being in the mix of being Mixed

Being in the mix of being Mixed It's confusing, yet warm and cozy—like being lost is almost easier than being brown. The choosing of which path to take—sometimes, I find it simpler to remain lost, avoiding the question of who might find me. Sitting on the fence, being mixed is the truth I carry. The quiet indulgence in the in-between. Nobody knows for sure who from where. I watch the journey pass—each exit, each departure, some people get off, others sometimes onto. A glimpse of all—the beauty in both, yet never feeling whole with either. So I linger where I know best, along for the ride, never reaching any destination, just drifting in the unknown. I used to search to be the best at both, master of each side, but now I simply understand— for me, being mixed is the in-between, neither here nor there, but forever caught in the space between.