I was supposed to be going with you to see Waitress today. Even though you hadn’t mentioned it recently, it’s been on my calendar for several months. Even before our chat Monday, when you (initially) decided for me that we shouldn’t be in contact, I had been worried about our plans to see the musical. I have very much been wanting to see it for some time now – I’ve always been a fan of the movie – but like I told you previously, these date-like activities are difficult and confusing, knowing that they don’t mean the same thing to you as they do to me. Should I consider myself fortunate that because we’re purposefully not speaking, the choice to go or not was made for me? Honestly, it’s not even about the musical. This was the last of all the future plans we had made together. You’ll easily find someone else to take, and I’ll sit around all day feeling sorry for myself, and lonely, and sad. But this is what I wanted, isn’t it?

It’s not even noon, and I’ve already punished myself by watching Love Actually. It’ll be all I can do to stop myself from listening to the Waitress Broadway Cast Recording at 2pm, the same time as the curtain downtown. I’ll try not to think of you, in your balcony seats, without me. I’ll try not to think that it was just five weeks ago that we were last there together, although it feels like a lifetime ago. Instead, I’ll attempt to keep my mind occupied, my hands busy. It’s the only way I’ll make it through the day, creating my own distractions. How is this what I thought I wanted?