I am an Indian person.  There are times I feel like the loneliest creature in the world.  But even at those times, I know who I am and what I am.  It’s a strange feeling, to be so aware of how few of us are here and how everywhere I go, I know that we used to exist everywhere here underneath all the layers of history, and we exist still in a more silent way.   I want people to know that I am Indian, but I know that it takes time to get them to understand what that means.  It takes much time to educate, place aside all the misconceptions, the outdated ideas, the realities of the diversity among Indian peoples, not to mention the specific truths about the Nation I am part of.   Being mixed with White, like most of us are that are not still on reservations, it’s sometimes easier to just blend in on the outside.  On the inside, though, I am an Indian person, always.