Nicholson’s third book and the second collection of poetry.
I’m on the phone with my mother, it’s 2am. We both have colds. I’ve been sick since last week. She is worried and keeps saying I don’t sound like I’m getting better. She interrogates me about what I’m taking. She tries to force me to get up and make some tea.
She’s trying to boss me around from Vegas. She tells me to hang up and go lay down. I’m like, the cold medicine makes me drowsy, so I’ve actually been sleeping all day. I tell her I don’t like the way being sick makes me feel.
Looking back on the conversation as I’m typing now. Does some part of me think some people like feeling sick? That seems silly to say out loud, it’s like stating the obvious. I’m angry I’m not doing more, while I’m sick.
Moments like this, I wonder if I shouldn’t be more guarded. Should I really write everything I’m thinking? I miss words when I’m typing this fast. Maybe I type faster than the cursor and it doesn’t put out all the words? Nah, I’m lying. I totally miss words.
My mom and I are building a new relationship. She’s changing as a person. I still don’t feel like I can tell her everything I’m thinking. Maybe our relationship means we should have secrets. It’s weird how many times I switch the subject. Some part of me knows not to go down certain paths. I don’t know how I know either. It’s a block that forces me in a different direction than I’m thinking.
It was almost 5am my time when she practically hung up on me. I was telling her about my dad. I was telling her how I let him read some of a draft. I tell her we started comparing scriptures to what he thought. How as a result of this exchange, he no longer attends church. How that wasn’t my purpose with this book. I just want people to consider what they really know about their beliefs.
Now I’m thinking about how he wasn’t there for my book release. How he completely forgot the day. How he brags on me but loses track of days. How sad he was he missed my book release.
I’m thinking about how I wished I could have missed my own book release.
I’m writing through the layers of my fears. The layers of all the things holding me back. I’m writing through my thoughts and letting them materialize on paper so I can strangle them in ink.
I have more to say than I’m willing to type at this moment.
Even Deities Evolve 