DISCLAIMER: I don't own iCarly. If I did, I'd be extremely rich and I am pretty sure I would be doing something far more important right now.
Kind of based on the song: Obvious by Faber Drive.
Okay, let me fill you in on some stuff. My name is Sam. I am not who you think I am. I like ham. [I like rhyming, too.]
If you went to my school, you would know who I am. If you had any sibblings or cousins that go to my school, you would know who I am. But I don't think you do know me. Even if you know who I am.
There's a GIGANTIC difference.
You know who some people are. You know who your best friend is. You know who your worst enemy is. You know who your gym teacher is. But you might now know them, know them.
By that, I mean:
You don't know who I am on the inside.
Every single person, don't deny, puts up a wall to shut people away from learning who they really are. Example: You, sweet reader, may say you are a thirteen year old little girl with brunette hair and hazel eyes, when really, you're a 47 year old man with white hair and white eyes, because you are an albino. BUT. We do not know that. :D
Okay, so maybe that was just a really creepy example.
Let me tell you mine.
I wear short skirts. I wear tight shirts. I wear Uggs. I carry around a very unnessisary, expensive purse. I straighten my hair each day.
But really...
I want to wear sweat pants 24/7. I don't like those stupid tank-tops. Uggs aren't comfortable, I prefer slippers. The purse is stupid. My hair is supposed to be curly, I want it curly, but they don't know that.
I'm tired of people not trusting me because of how I act around them. They don't have a clue what I'm really like.
I sighed and ran up to my room to change these idiotic clothes. I slipped on some gym shorts, a "Cute Is What We Aim For" band tee, and some comfy slippers. I quickly ran into the bathroom, wet my hair, and shook my head like a dog. Yes! My hair is curly again.
I heard the doorbell ring. Just in time. Before I knew it, I was sprinting down the stairs like a mad woman. My hand was shaking and I was trying to catch my breath as I opened the door.
"Hey, Sam."
And then he kissed me.
Ohh, how that made my knees go weak.
I gave a soft smile and offered my hand.
"So, how was your day?"
"It was okay. In Advanced Math, they gave out Jolly Ranchers." He smiled widely, and looked like he had won a Nobel prize.
I laughed as we sat down on the couch. "You know, I love those."
"Which is why I got you one." I giggled and brought my hand to my chest.
"You're my savior. Now, give it up."
"Not till I get some ice cream."
"Sure, sure, give it."
He took out a piece of purple hard-candy wrapped in plastic from his pocket. My eyes lit up. "Magic word?"
"Pleeeease."
He handed me the candy and I quickly put it in my mouth. "Ice cream now?"
"Nope."
"When?"
"Never!"
I giggled.
"Ohhh, you're gonna get it."
He pushed me down on the couch and started lifting my shirt up.
"AAAAH! NOOO! PLEAAAASE!"
...
He's very good at tickling.
"I surrender, I surrender! STOP! YOU'LL GET YOUR ICE CREAM!"
He stopped.
"Now?"
I was out of breath.
"Sure."
They don't know me. They don't know who I really am. They don't know what I'm really thinking. They don't know how I feel about how I dress and what I do. And they ESPECIALLY don't know how in love I am with Freddie Benson.
