Time for Sensibility

Do not read this book.
No, seriously, I have absolutely no idea why one was even written about my life. This is ridiculous. Not only did I live in the middle of nowhere in a drug infested town, under the roof of a trailer that was literally collapsing on itself... but nothing, and I mean, nothing interesting has ever happened to me. Well, unless you counted being abandoned outside of a motel, picked up by my new foster father that was always too high to remember my name, or spending the last six years traveling the United States practically homeless. Oh! Let's not forget to include the jerk that I really needed to break up with because let's face it... he had actually started to scare me. A lot.
I'd spent the last six years of my life feeling horribly out of place. Feeling like I was not only in a time that didn't fit me but in a place that was so lackluster that I had issues believing it was real. So when I tell you not to read this book? I mean it.
There is nothing of interest in here. I promise.
Well, I suppose there was one memorable and interesting moment in my recent past… the night of my eighteenth birthday. You know, the one where my four hot neighbors, and known criminals, kidnapped me onto a river boat. You could say I was confused when I found myself falling asleep floating down a Missouri river... and waking up to marmalade skies and a talking river otter with a hot pink top hat. None of that confusion, though, compared to when my four psycho kidnappers made me remember everything I'd forgotten.
Because I had been right, I didn't fucking belong here.
I belonged in the Kingdom of Snark.