OK. I see what you mean and you are right. I think that everyone has been in a situation -- whether it was caused by the end of a love affair or the death of someone close to us -- when we knew that those around us were fed up with the depths of our personal wells of grief (god, I love stealing phrases) and had to shut up. THe problem with shutting up, it that the rage, the grief are still inside, throwing themselves at our rib cages, demanding release.
Are you familiar with an old song, Twenty Mile Zone by Dorrie Previn? Previn became a feminist icon through this song. It is about screaming alone in the car. The car and the shower are great places to scream out the grief, to, as Previn wrote, "seek a little relief." CAtharsis.
Here's a link to the song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dHm6CPh6mIQ&feature=search
Its funny that u bring that up.
Years ago, I had an experience like that which was at least semi-weird, to wit:
I had been obsessed with a young lady named Joyce for many years.
We shared a classroom whose number was 216
We parted and attended different schools; mentally, I associated that number with her.
I was distraught for a long time.
One afternoon, I was returning to my office from court.
My radio played a song that aroused emotions of yearning, guilt, self reproach n frustration;
something a little like a panic attack, at whose conclusion the DJ said: "and its 2:16
That evening, I was driving East on the Southern State Parkway alone in the middle lane,
to pick up a young lady (who resembled Joyce) for dinner.
I suffered a resurgence
of the earlier emotions, as I drove.
Silently, in the privacy of my mind I called out, soundlessly yelled to the Universe
for succor & nepenthe. Literally, within one second -- the time it takes to sneeze -- a car
went past me very, very fast on my right, zooom
: license plate number 216
I felt like I had a Cosmic pat on the head.