Hey, my name is Carly Sinclair. This isn’t politically correct, or even close for human digestion. This is my easy steps to taking all the shit society puts on you, and throw it right back in their face. Listen, I am Varsity captain of the cheerleader’s team, school president and child prodigy of my town’s generation. You probably think I’m about to go up and get some grand award for all my accomplishments in this wanna be conservative neo-nazi hell of a town. Nope. I am sitting in the county’s holding cell for marijuana charges. Although, that’s bullshit seeing as marijuana has done nothing but helped me these last couple of months. Allow me to rewind.

See, I don’t live in a fair town. Being regular is popular, and being abnormal is disgraceful. My mother is a homemaker; the labels they give women to make them believe they aren’t being controlled by society. My father; a prestiged judge of the town, meaning our entire family is kissed up to. I use to love it. I adored being the center of this confederate bound place I called home. Yep, I use to be one of those bland losers. Obsessed with starbucks drinks and who Tommy would take to prom this year. The ‘I need to post on instagram about every little thing’ teenager, the ‘break my heart but not my nails’ female. Ugh, I look back with such a distaste. You probably think I might be over exaggerating? My entire town agreed that if the election came down to Ben Carson and Bernie Sanders. They’d vote Carson just because Bernie isn’t a republican. We are so conservative and white. We are home of facetiming our pets, land of the stocking up on Target’s dollar aisle, the only place where Chipotle will run out of guacamole every saturday before noon.

Anyways, allow me to fall back on my fucked situation. It was my senior year at high school. I had already built a legacy within the town, and my judge of a father helped boost my popularity. I was the captain of almost every club, except chest. We all use to believe chess was for geeks who live with their moms, and barely have time for hygiene. (Do you see how much of a dumb shit I was??) I dated this average boy, well I use to think he was my everything. I thought he was the Will to my Jada, the Channing to my Jenna, the Neil to my David, basically the boy my parents wanted me to marry in this bland town. Sorry, I get off topic a lot. I’m sitting in jail, and all they gave me was a pen and paper. They weren’t suppose to give me that, but they know my father and they wanted to compensate me. This town can’t even be fair. While, I wait for my pending demise in this cell. I’d like to write you a guide. A guide that reflects my frustrations, strange occurrences, and my experience with smoking the forbidden ‘W’ word. I mean, I didn’t get the name Carly Cannabis for nothing.