I have a roommate. She's very sweet - very angelic - very selfless and awesome.
Her name is not April.
Her name is Maggie. Maggie is one of those very special people that I think a person only meets once in a lifetime. Her blue eyes sparkle most when she's making other people happy.
I do, however, have a roommate named April. Although she does have an infectious laugh, she is mildly crazy. She has obviously suffered a childhood trauma, and this repressed memory is somehow triggered in my presence, leading to intensely physically violent spells.
I love my roommates.
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