I love my apartment at 3am when everyone has gone to sleep except for me and you can only hear the sound of the lights humming or the toilet dripping or people wondering down the hall. It’s amazing how quiet New York actually is if you’re just still. I love how there are so many stories living in the same few walls as me. Stories of love and death and happiness and fear and they are all yet to be told. And we are getting there slowly but surely. We will one day all tell each other how much we really love each other yet also how much we annoy each other. How sometimes I hate that you eat all my food or drink all my beer and don’t wash the dishes. But all of that falls to the wayside when I really think about it. I live with who are now some of my absolute best friends and I just don’t think that happens often, if at all. Sure, sometimes we can be really mean to each other and I think the worst of it is yet to come but I think when the day is done and we crawl into our beds, we laugh about something that happened three weeks ago. We laugh because we really truly enjoy each other. We learn from each other and we struggle together. We carry each others burdens yet encourage each other to try new and different things. I couldn’t ask for better roommates, for better friends, for a better family.