April is stormy and passes by in a haze. My fear of being hurt and abandoned prevails. Lines and lines of squished words fill my notebook. The smaller and unreadable, the better. To avoid people reading it accidentally. I write during classes, boring speeches, lunch break, in the bus. The notebook is almost full. I wish the void within me could be filled as easily. The words don’t make a lot of sense, but I write as much as I can, hoping that a flash of genius would...