My Imaginary Friends

When I was a kid, I had a lot of imaginary friends. As far as I was concerned, they were the coolest, most supportive friends a girl could want. I would teach them how to dance and we would put on Annie together in my front living room and, when I was sad and scared and alone, they were always there.

I am 32 and tonight I miss those friends.

It's a sad moment when you wake up in your 30s and realize that, aside from knowing a million people, you could fall off the planet and none of them - except for your spouse and a few relatives - would even have a clue that you were gone. Not for weeks, not for months. That is a god awful feeling.

It's like a line I wrote in my most recent play Porchlight Confessions - "I've got 461 Facebook friends and absolutely no one to talk to". No victims, though. I got myself into this mess and it's time I got myself out...