When I was six years old my mom bought me a pair of glossy pink. strap on sandals that had the words DIVA GIRL on the two front straps. I wore the sandals for seven weeks straight, I even wore them to church, and my aunts wedding. On the 7th week of my pink sandal marathon my teacher finally told the school counselor that I would stare, and talk to my sandals more than I would talk and interact with my fellow classmates. After a long chat with the schools counselor, she made it her business that I would be diagnosed with a mild case of ADHD. Two weeks after my diagnosis the DIVA in the DIVA GIRL sandal straps ripped when I slipped off my front porch, and brought the devastating fall of the DIVA GIRL era. Nine years later came my re-subscription to my mild case of ADHD when Seth Grain walked into my geometry class five months ago in August.
"You bring the sun to its knees, and the ocean to its motion....." holy crap I really suck at poetry, and I don't mean the time you use the word suck to describe the lightest of terms, I mean the word SUCK, the word of greatest efficiency that best portrays your grave hopelessness towards a situation. How does one convey the yearning, and necessity for a person on a piece of paper? I tried hard to go back to every god given moment that I was blessed to have shared with him, and imagine all the kisses he would place on my forehead, the many times my head would construct the perfect fixture for his shoulder, and all the infinite moments where we'd use our names to create the sweetest of poetry. And when awakening from the many pools of my thoughts, I came to the most inevitable conclusion "Jenna Mort you are seriously demented."
  I am in the most irreversible way infatuated with Seth Grain. Even his name his has the connotation of a monument, his thoughts, and opinions were bestowed on him by the divine, and his physicality is the unavoidable reason to my quite literal paralysis. Seth Grain who is a senior at Clementine Bay High School, Seth Grain who always smells of burned sage to keep his positive spiritual balance with the world, who always has a political opinion on everything, Seth Grain who is the most fascinating enigma. All the words in my mediocre vocabulary fall short in comparison to the two venerated syllables that formulate the melodious sound of his name. Again, the ageing question resurfaces, how do I compile this grave infatuation for Seth Grain on a single sheet of paper. I have spent the last two sluggish hours in the interminable debate, the inexorable paradox, and I still have no clue on how to compose Seth Grain's poetic love letter.
  All my problems come from one provision, a provision that began as one thing, and has now turned into the infinite definition of everything. THE PROVISION I Jenna Mort am 15, and Seth Grain is 18. THE INFINITE PROVISION I do not smell of burnt stage, I do not have a political opinion, I do not care for philosophy, I suck at poetry, hate interpretive dance, won't ever understand an abstract anything, and am not a fascinating enigma.
And in the highlight of my despair the same powers that bestowed the many opinions, and thoughts of Seth Grain, shone their benevolence on me. The great divine powers granted me with the finest resolution to my problem, the idea that was specifically constructed to steal Seth Grain's heart away. A POETIC SUICIDE LOVE LETTER, where I will metaphorically kill myself for his wondrous love. THE PROVISION I suck at poetry, and I mean SUCK. THE INFINITE PROVISION I have no idea how to kill myself, I don't know how to kill my self for love, I had only ever experienced a death once in my life, and it was from some long distant, 3 times removed cousin who lived Connecticut, due to my lack of misfortune I've never gone deep into the research suicidal thoughts, and I Jenna Mort am 15, and Seth Grain is 18.
In the simplest of terms I have nothing in common with Seth Grain, and the cold echoing thought only slightly thaws when I strain to remember that the thread that locks us to together is my grave infatuation for him. That thin thread that weighs me down, and lifts me up like chains, the paradox of endless yearning, and infinite fascination.
Within the maelstrom of my love, ADHD, and the search for poetic enlightenment, I even dared to whisper it in the confines of my room "Seth Grain I am going to KILL MYSELF." On this tuesday night the metaphorical necessity for death never sang so sweetly, lulled by its song, and my 11am incline on slumberous thoughts. With the every intention of composing the poetically, enlightening SUICIDE LOVE LETTER I typed with urgency, urgency for Seth, sleep, and suicide. I type for half an hour, until my 11am incline was tired of my s***, and I fell asleep on my computer.
  I woke up some hours later, with tremendous hesitation towards looking over to the clock. Still in the presence of slumberous thoughts, I knew all too well "Jenna Mort if you turn around now, and see the time you're going to go back to sleep" taking my very own advice under heavy consideration I decided not to turn clock, but to my computer which had turned off after I fell asleep. I turned it on and to the most unbelievable conclusion, there it was the few paragraphs that formulated my love, and suicide.
"How could I put the words to best fit the shape of your delicate ear, to best sooth the sight of your eyes? You deepen my exsistance, and the very few things that revolve around it. Everything you are is engraved into my mind, although this may cause you to pettie me, even when I blink my after images are of you. There are a million people in the world, and a million provisions that will never let be with you. Death tastes like sugar and lemon when I think of the world, and how it continues spin, although it knows the inevitable truth. You were born with borders by your west, and east, with oceans by your north,and south. Oceans, walls, and borders of steel, water, and ice hhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhffffffffffffffffffff......."