The Sunday morning EXPLOSION flashed through the shutters, something my eyes were not prepared for. I tossed the duvet aside and tried to steady myself through the blurry vision. The bed made a terrible creak when I got up, I had to remember that. Get a new mattress. When my eyes decided to return to a clear state, I saw my reflection in the mirror resting on my worn desk. Thinning hair and unkempt beard, the look of dried up ability. I was definitely looking for the part of a working writer. However, this did not reflect reality. My sight moved to the stack of blank papers next to my trusty typewriter, it would certainly be trusty if it weren't so foreign to me. I looked up at the reflection again, behind me lies the bedroom of a dingy and boring apartment. A fusion of lifelessness and loss of color, hardly an environment for a creative mind. On the other hand I couldn't blame my desiccated room when I have the pleasure of taking care of the loudest and most obnoxious roommate in the world. A first-class violent distraction. I could no longer tell whether my wallpaper was peeling due to its quality or its noise. When someone has been your best friend for six years, you tend to get used to their flaws, the noise, the random array of women, the house parties, the noise, the alcohol, the drugs, the constant noise, did I mention the noise? Well, I have to admit, after all this time, Danny seems to have kept me in a better mood. He tends to look on the bright side, his humor and lack of caring seem to cheer up the staleness of the place. I didn't notice a crack in the corner of the glass, I had to remember that. Get a new mirror. I stumble towards the shutters, dust seeming to rise from the floorboards with each staggering step. I really needed…half of paper…money to replace them. You're my best friend, but sometimes I just wish you could gain a little perspective. You treat women like disposable toys, when it comes to drugs you act like there are no laws to follow and God knows how you can pay for that shit. I just want you to understand that this apartment is not a hybrid between a brothel and a drug house. I'm damn worried about you. Okay” I heard the lock on the door turn, I had clearly said enough to motivate him. "We need to clean up this mess, Danny." He looked at me with an expression of excruciating guilt and looked over my shoulder at the wasteland that was our living room. He finally let it all go with a sigh. “You're right buddy. I'm honestly so sorry, I'll start cleaning it up now, I promise." I grabbed his shoulder before he ran away. "No Danny, I mean the mess you can't just sweep up. Us. Our life.”