I'm trying, I'm trying

I'm trying to write about being stuck in the middle of someone else's painful irony. I'm trying to write about when you doubt your good friends' good opinion of you. I'm trying to write about the compulsion to disassemble my fingers. I'm trying to write about rain, raining, what's going on when it's raining? I'm trying to write about my nephew, his mother, and their troubles. I'm trying to write about the drift and blur of a love that I trust. I'm trying to write about the pillars of my home, and how it'd be nice if Davy would quit leaving the heat on in their room. I'm trying to write about four pork buns that passed be capably from hunger to satiety to sleep to regret. I'm trying to write about discovering more friendship inside your friendship. I'm trying to write about our drug celebrity. I'm trying to write about the terrible charge of touching an art. I'm trying to write about the the first felt symptoms of age.