Dandelion Set in Raleigh, North Carolina. A boy named John lived there with thousands of other Johns with a variety of spellings. Plain, boring ol' John. A cliche weak hero in a story that doesn't stand out at all if it hadn't been narrated like this. He simply passes through life with his weak flimsy arms and his colorless, gray life and his smaller-than-many stature and his untanned skin. To live and move along with life's rhythm, he is forced to do his most dreaded thing- Sing. It was something that someone like him who had an unsurprisingly low self-esteem absolutely hated to do. But what else can he do when all he wants is a life in the spotlight of the city? He wants a name to himself, and he supposes that this is one of the few ways he can gain just exactly that. However, new situations come in hand. His family from a rural area needs him back home for reasons he cannot know. The moment he comes in, he meets a mysterious girl, oblivious of what had been happening around.

There were multiple occasions in which Senna Smith became the main character in the story. She was often the highlight of it all, and every twitch deserved a spotlight. Senna was often praised, and she would always gain everything she has always wanted- she wasn’t mean either, so that’s a plus. Hell, if it were up to anybody, she was perfect. Each year, she learns a new skill and she practically perfected it. But, despite the seemingly perfect setting for the main character, she wasn’t exactly the first one on the list. It was me. Well wasn’t that anticlimactic. See, Senna my best friend, and my only supporter in writing- the one thing she dreaded doing. But, she was also quite a reader. I understand. With my depiction of her, she was the best idea for a main character that one can get. But see, that’s not the center of the plot. I hate to sound vain, but believe it or not, it’s circled around me. Well, reader, she is a writing device called contrast. Alas, be disheartened by thine lackingness. This means I am a simple, not quite perfect, non-ideal main character, anticlimactic, multi-flawed, airheaded maniac with a pen that was put in a book for some reason by fate. Literally. I, Xi Lian, am stuck in a book. A book filled with so much irony that decided for a writer to get eaten up by the pages that are untouched and unread by anyone. That means I have no damned clue as to whatever the hell it being planned for me by the writer who put me here in the first place. So reader, please tell me what the hell is going on?