I let him talk during the ride and fill up the silence. He complained about lack of sleep and indigestion at one point and I said 'wow you never stop singing the same tune' and he didn't laugh. He explained the emails he's been sending me are due to his work schedule balancing out a bit more. To me, this means he's been bored.
A couple of times during the 15 minute cab ride he asked me how I was/what I've been up to. And per my strict therapist directions, I answered cooly, I'm fine, I'm good- thanks. He went on to describe some shows he's seen and he's going away out on a shoot Wednesday. All I wanted to do was yell out 'What do you want to hear? That I miss you? That I'm fucking miserable? What? Don't fucking email me when you're bored, don't you get it, you broke my heart!!"
But I can't. Because for some reason, I wasn't born with those set of balls, instead, after a night like this, of not enough beer and miles away from the closure I need to really move on, I end up crying, alone. And praying to god that this strong girl I used to be, will one day have the strength, even after miles of therapy, to say how she really feels.