I felt like a comedian waiting for a laugh in a room full of people with their mouths sewn shut.  I was forcing a feeling of weightlessness that denied it had a landing.  Our lives are composed in milliseconds of turning down chances and decision making. Our lives are played out in what we choose to keep avoiding.  We are the moments between waking and falling asleep, the moments between sitting cars and deciding to put the keys in the ignition. We are all love letters without postage stamps; only an inch away from the finish line with one ingredient missing.  Every day feels like a Sunday.  Every day feels like a traffic jam. And nobody wants to talk about it.  Nobody in the elevator.  Nobody on the street.  Nobody wants to breathe an inch of evidence that we've all learned the art of hiding anguish in a laugh track.