Disclaimer: I do not own Starbucks nor do I own Twilight. Therefore I am a poor and jaded biotch! Enjoys!

A/N: Thank you for reading! This story is an EPOV thing…ya

Dear…Whoever happens upon this,

I don't know who you are, and I assume I never will. Actually I sort of hope we never meet as I'm about to whine away on this piece of lined paper for you to see.

You likely have already stopped reading, but I just feel the need to tell somebody, anybody really, the things that eat away at me day after day. Perhaps that will satisfy my overactive brain for a few minutes so I can at least get a few minutes of much needed sleep.

Now you're wondering why I don't tell my friends, my family, my significant other, or even my pet and leave you the hell alone, but that's just simply impossible.

I'm painfully shy. Even if I did have all of those aforementioned relationships (which are few and far between in my case) I would die before bringing my insecurities and problems up to the forefront for them to do with as they please. This right here is problem number one. I'm shy, insecure and plain. That's how I would describe myself. Boring and plain. Plainly boring, if you will.

I can't count on two hands (as there are far too many) the amount of missed opportunities that have breezed past me in my lifetime.

I am your average, plain, boring twenty two year old college student, who has yet to go on a date, or even kiss a boy. I don't blame it all on my inability to initiate things. That would be the coward's way out. The rest of that blame goes to the fact that I am simply uninteresting, and I assume unattractive, as I've never had the words 'you're pretty' uttered to me. That's right. Never once.

I'd like to find love someday. I want to find that spark, that magnetic pull that suspends time and gravity. I do. It just doesn't seem to be in my cards.

I wonder if you're still reading this. If you are, I apologize. You really don't have to.

Are you in college? Because I am. It's so demanding and difficult. Even more so when you're damn near invisible. I hate say that I envy people that have the ability to speak up, make themselves known, but I do. It doesn't matter what they say, it is definitely about whom you know not so much as WHAT you know. I've realized that when a professor is grading papers he or she will give more attention to names they know whether they are known for good or bad reasons. It's a subconscious thing. Therefore, the professor comes across my paper, sees a name that doesn't even register. He skims, gives it an average mark and moves on. This means that I have to work twice as hard as someone else, just to receive that slightly above average grade.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not saying I'm a genius or anything. Far from it I'm sure. It still sucks.

Still reading? I know, I know. But to be fair, I did say I was going to whine. And life sucks. There's an awful lot to whine about. There's no way to sugar coat it, it just plain freaking sucks.

My parents died last year. They were in a car accident on their way to visit me at school. I don't want pity. It's just another way that life sucks.

They were both only children, their parents long gone, and I as well an only child. That left me. I'll live though. And unlike most people, I don't blame myself for that accident. Even though they were on their way to visit me, I was not the truck driver who fell asleep t the wheel on the highway. No, no. I place all the blame on him.

Speaking of trucks, mine is a piece of shit. Honestly, some days it doesn't even run at all. Makes me feel so much better when that happens. Yeah, I just rolled my eyes as I wrote that.

Sucky truck.

When I was in high school, I was anorexic. I'm not anymore…I don't think so anyways. I mean, I eat. Not hoards of food or anything, but I eat. And it isn't often that it comes back up. Actually, I can't remember the last time it did.

It just occurred to me that I'm pretty much just randomly jotting stuff down here for you to read. No rhyme, no reason. That's how my life feels. My brain works a million miles a minute with no rhyme or reason. No reprieve either. That's kind of the point of this exercise. I'd be mortified if I was saying this out loud, or even if I had to watch you read it, right there in front of me.

But the thing is, I need to sleep. I haven't slept a full night in so long that I just might die of shock if or when it actually happens. I just can't seem to turn my brain off long enough to get a decent REM cycle on the go.

God, do those words even make sense?

I do believe I've taken up more than enough of your time…that is if you didn't flounce five words in. I hope I haven't ruined your day…

Sincerely, Me

I put the letter I had found stuffed between the arm and cushion of the overstuffed Starbucks chair down on the table in front of me and ran a hand through my already disheveled hair.

"Well, fuck me." I whispered aloud to no one. I had no idea who had written this letter, but it struck me as someone I wanted to know.

Picking up my overpriced coffee, I took a drink as my eyes wandered to the other patrons of the coffee shop and the connected bookstore. No one looked suspicious or even like they recognized me as a presence.

It worried me that this anonymous letter was a thinly veiled cry for help and I had nothing to go on. No way to even begin to figure out the identity.

Not knowing what else to do, I pulled out the notebook I always carried around with me and began my own letter.

Dear Notice by Someone,

I don't know you, but id like you. Your letter made me laugh a little bit and cry a little bit, and generally just left me wanting to know more. I do hope that the person receiving this is the same person who wrote the original letter. If you are not, I would hope that you would have the decency to cease and desist immediately.

It pains me to know that you feel like you have no one to turn to, and would be too shy to even if you did. Id never make you feel embarrassed about it, I hope you know that right now.

You speak of beauty as if it is the be all and end all to life. It isn't. This will sound clichéd, but I've always believed that it was the person on the inside that made a person pretty. On a side note, I can't believe that not a single soul has ever told you that. I find that despicable. Everyone is pretty in their own ways. I don't even know you and I can already say that you are not boringly plain…or, plainly boring as you put it.

I'd like to find that magnetic pull as well, so you aren't alone in evading that aspect of life. Id love to settle down one day. Have a family, a yard, maybe even a dog (Id let you tell him your secrets too if ya want). So here we are. I'm a twenty four year old book store owner who also hasn't found love. Maybe its kismet.

I'm sorry about your parents. And no, that isn't pity. I understand where you're coming from actually. My parents died when I was seventeen, so I know how it is. It is good to hear you don't blame yourself, or else id have to worry even more about you…

Look at that. Worried about you and I don't even know you. Told ya someone noticed you.

As for your, um, disorders, I do hope you have that under control. There are people you can call that will help you anytime. Never think you have to go it alone.

Look, you've piqued my interest. I've already read your letter three times, and it only just occurred to me that I have no idea when you left it, or if you will ever even return here. I hope you do. And I hope you leave me another letter. Did writing the last one help you sleep? If so, I'd say write me a letter every single day if it helps. Just let it out, girl.

And for the record, the truck part is what made me laugh. It sucks, but you have a bit of a sense of humor about it. It made me chuckle. But seriously, you should have someone look at it. It doesn't sound safe.

I'm going to take this step here, knowing that you may never get this and some random person will end with my number calling and stalking me. It's a risk I'm willing to take.

555-2467

Call me or text anytime

Eamc1901 … that's my hotmail. You can email me as well if you would like to.

Sincerely, Edward

P.S. You didn't ruin my day at all.

I folded up the note and stuck it down in the cushions where I had found the original.

I knew It was a long shot here…especially leaving my phone number. I was liable to end up getting stalked. I just couldn't find it in myself to care about that. She was too scared to put herself out there, so I would do it for her. It was highly unlikely that she would even utilize the number if she did come back, but it was worth a try.