then i will not go. once more, for my birthday.

About a week ago I scribbled something in my journal about theater. I can't find it now, but I remember saying that it was something like falling madly in love with an entire play & then getting your heart broken so you're free to fall in love with the next one. I don't know that I articulated it all that well. I do know that I spent more time than I wanted to last night in tears, that one weekend was clearly not enough (that I miss everything about it already), & that I loved doing this play more than I can possibly explain. I'm not going to try. I need to get ready for work--time to rejoin the real world. But maybe it was good for me--as upsetting as the end was--to remember what it's like to get to do theater that takes over my soul like that. Ultimately, that's what it ought to be, I think.