Have you ever gotten the feeling of complete and utter discomfort? I get that feeling alot. It's not all the time, it only happens when I'm around certain people. You know, when someone you don't really talk to tries to start a conversation, and you're trying to be all polite even though all you want is to be with your friends. Maybe I'm just weird. I never really talk to anybody about stuff like this, but this is an inner monologue, so its whatever.
I've had plenty of let-downs in my short sixteen years of life. When I was three my father left, I don't really remember him too well, and I'm glad. He sounds like a terrible man, atleast that's the way my mother tells the story. When I was nine, I wanted a bike and my mom wouldn't buy me one. I understand why now, but being as young as I was...it didn't make sense why my friends could have bikes and scooters and I couldn't. All of my disappointments made me who I am now. A loner. A guarded, sarcastic, pessimistic loner. I don't really mind what became of me, but it could have been better. I ask myself what life could have been like if, maybe, we'd had more money. If my dad had stayed around. If I weren't so...different. I grew up around mainstream influences, but somewhere around my twelfth birthday, I rebelled. I started listening to people that didn't play on the radio 24/7, little known garage bands. Somewhere along the way I lost the two people closest to me, Carlotta Shay and Fredward Benson. They didn't take to kindly to my new personality. Well, so what, who needs 'em. Certainly not me.
"Sam, we need to talk," a young Carly Shay informed, grabbing the remote I'd been flipping the channels with from my grasp and tossing it to the side. I rolled my eyes, adjusting myself to face her before sighing and conceding. "What is it?" I asked, already in a bad mood.
"You've changed," she said, crossing her arms, obviously hoping to look intimidating. I don't scare easy. The look on my face gave away my confusion. I had no idea what she was talking about, as far as I was concerned, I had stayed exactly the same. She must have noticed, because she glared in my direction, sitting down next to me and softening her gaze. That's when I knew she meant business. When her moods shifted this quickly, it meant bad news. I turned serious, not wanting to anger her further. "Sam," she breathed. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes again. "Freddie and I have noticed a...difference in how you've been behaving. You're meaner than usual and, oh, I don't know...distant?" I sighed, already preparing the lines I'd rehearsed to get everyone off my back.
"Carly, I-"
She cut me off, "We think you should quit iCarly." My jaw dropped and my eyes widened, I didn't know what to say. They wanted me to quit iCarly? The show that we'd all put our sweat, blood, and tears into? Soon I was seeing red.
I locked my jaw, pressing my mouth into a firm line, my eyes narrowed into slits. "How dare you?" I nearly growled. "Do the past two years of our lives mean nothing? Was I seeing something different than what you were seeing? I thought everything was fine!"
"Sam, listen, this is more Freddie's decision than it is mine. I don't want you to-"
"Save it, Shay, if he wanted my gone so bad he could've worked up the guts to say it himself." I was pissed beyond belief.
Almost as if on que, Freddie walked through the door to Carly's apartment. My heart dropped and everything felt, really, really real. I couldn't bare to look at either of them, my eyes were watering, and my face felt on fire. I stood up and grabbed my jacket, determined to not let either of them see me cry. I'd learned few things from my mother, but one of them was to never let anyone see you when you're weak. It made you vulnerable and the most fierce weapon an opponent could use against you was vulnerability.
"You don't have to go," Freddie said, breaking the tense silence.
I snapped. "Oh, don't I? You seemed so dead-set on me leaving when you wanted me to quit." I looked at the both of them, unable to hold back the feeling of betrayal and animosity towards the two. "If I'm that much of a problem, then everything should be just fine when I'm gone." My voice cracked towards the end, but I didn't care. I gripped the door knob, my knuckles turning white, and not turning around, I opened the door and said, "Congratulations." I walked out, slamming the door behind me.
Well, atleast I had my pride.
The wounds were still fresh, but whatever.
That became my catchphrase in a sense. I didn't care about anything anymore and my indifference became my identity.
You've heard of Debby Downer. I'm Cynical Sam. Nice to meet you.
I've got several tales leading up to now, that I'd just love to share. I'm sure you're interested, I mean, you're reading this sentence, so I couldn't have completely bored you with my 'flashback'.
Death is coming anyway so why not get in early while the tombstones are cheap.
Think of this as a bit of a suicide note if you must, because come next week, I'll be but a distant memory.