The solution

"Sometimes I don't even know if I exist," Peter said.

"Oh really?" she replied.

"Really." He slurped his cappuccino. The foam dripped off his upper lip. "You know how I know I exist though?"

"How?" she said, unable to look away from the foam.

"When I walk down the street, people walk around me. Okay sure some bump into me. But it's like, there's this space, and I take it up."

"Wow. That's deep." She looked at him to see if he noticed her sarcasm. He didn't.

"It's so sad," he continued, "sometimes I just go into a random store, and stand in line, just to be somewhere, taking up space. And then when it's my turn in line, it's like the sales person sees me, looks at me, and acknowledges me with a 'Can I help you?' "

"Uh huh."

"It feels so good," he said, taking another sip.

"You need help."

"What?"

"I like kelp," she said.

"I'm so glad you're talking to me though. If it weren't for you, I'd probably jump off a bridge or something."

"Wow, that's really sweet, Peter. Thanks," she said. Then she smiled.

"Yeah," he said smiling. "It's not like I need other humans to know I exist though. When I walk by those automatic doors, they open because there's something there."

"Yeah."

"That something ... is me."

"Yep," she said.

Peter nodded dolefully, staring into his cappuccino. She studied his face for a moment and said, "Peter?"

"Yes?"

"You should totally get a blog."