Okay, this is the first time I've ever, EVER done anything like this before. I just felt very poetic today. And to let you know again, I've really never did any poetry in my life. Whatever. This is apart of the SeddieIsPregnant challenge. Anyways, for thoughs who want to know, I'm still working the third chapter of iOwnYou. I'm almost done with it. The only reason why it's taking so long is because I completely scraped a lot of what I had writen down, cuz it was horrible. D:
Well, enjoy. And if you have any pointers, or whatever, I gladly accept them. But I don't like flames, so don't send them.
Also, this is told in Sam's POV. The iCarly gang is 16-17.
Disclaimer: I dun own iCarly.
Facing the Swell
So we take a necessary step forward, and continue living the emotional whirlpool we call our lives because, otherwise, we'd all be dead.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
You're holding
the little death stick
('tis what you've dubbed it)
in your hand.
It's the one you purchased
at the Pharmacy Counter
on South Blvd.
You're shaking the little stick of death,
you're trying to make it give you
a faster answer,
an answer that favors you,
the one that isn't a death sentence.
You're looking at it now,
because the stopwatch
on your cell phone said
it was time.
And that little plus is staring
right back at you,
in its proud, pink coloring.
You've always hated math
and the color pink.
You're lying on your bed, asleep
when your woken by the sound
of your cell phone,
singing some Drake Bell song
that you've forgotten the name of.
It's probably Carly
or maybe even the dork.
You don't know,
maybe both.
You haven't talked to them in days,
they're probably wondering
if you're dead.
But you don't care.
You just close your eyes
and let the fatigue you've accumulated
over the past four days
bring you back to your slumber.
You mustn't keep those
anxious nightmares waiting.
Wake up,
an almost soft murmur.
You crack an eye open to see Carly,
she's hovering above you
and giving you a look
that could pierce through
a dozen stone monuments.
You just stare
back into her unforgiving eyes.
Why haven't you called me?!
she's asking you a question
that you've already expected
with a disbelieving expression.
But how could she not?
You're always at her house,
24/7,
always raiding her fridge,
and doing whatever the hell you want.
She must think something
is seriously wrong with you.
And you know
she's right.
Something is seriously wrong with you.
Should you tell her?
That question's been haunting you
ever since you woke up 2hours ago
to see her, staring holes into your soul.
Should you tell her?
She is, after all, your best friend,
really your only friend
(besides the dork
but that doesn't count
not right now).
Should you tell her?
She's sitting in front of you
with the spoon
full of chocolate ice cream
in her left hand.
Her expression is open,
as well as her heart.
Should you tell her?
You know she'll support you.
Should you tell her?
The question keeps repeating itself,
over and over and over
in your head.
Should you tell her?
Tell me what's going on with you..
You sigh
and dump your spoon
into the ice cream bucket
and you do just that.
"I'm pregnant."
She wants to know who the father is,
but you don't think
you're strong enough to relay that info.
Not just yet.
Not even the father knows, yet.
Hell,
he probably doesn't even remember.
You both were pretty wasted that night.
And plus (oh, how you hate the sign),
how can you tell her that the father
is Freddie,
the dork, the tech-nerd!
How can you tell her
that it's the guy whom you've teased
since as far back
as you can remember?
How can you tell her that?
You won't.
You can't.
You're not.
Should I continue?
Reviews please.
