Having Real Imaginary Friends

[I think there’s some rule happening this week on social media that whatever you post HAS to be something about the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. Because I pretty much don’t see anything on my newsfeed that doesn’t involve ice and water being dumped on people. 

I don’t have much to say about the epidemic that hasn’t already been said, so I’m going to defer to others who have said it better. (This is a good one if you want my take: Throwing Ice Water on Good Causes.)

Since I’m somewhat of a non-conformist, the rest of this post will have nothing to do with the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge…starting nnnnnow.] 

This week I’ve been editing articles that have to do with relationships, which prompts many thoughts, not the least of which is my own marital status (unmarried, single, freeeee).

But when I quit looking around at all of the relationships that are happening among my friends—weddings and babies occupy my newsfeed…Ah yes, it is that time of life, isn’t it?—and look around at who’s actually standing next to me in real life, I’m reminded that I’ve got it pretty good.

Just this summer, I’ve travelled to Xenia, OH, Chicago, IL, Michigan’s Upper Peninsula with a friend from PA, and all over creation with my best friend who lives twenty minutes from me. I might not be married, but I have some pretty excellent friends and a travel itinerary that isn’t anything to sneeze at (well, for a introverted homebody like me, that is).

It’s these AHA!-moments that prompt me to tweet things like this:

Screen Shot 2014-08-22 at 5.49.21 PM

And immediately after realizing that she is, in fact, real and not just my imaginary friend, I thank the Lord for 1.) that I’m not actually insane and 2.) for blessing me with friendship like these.

Social media has made us more aware of everybody else’s life than ever before. But I think if we were to simply realize the great things we already have and quit keeping up with the Joneses, we would be more grateful. And don’t worry, your best friend is real. Most likely.



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