Our thoughts are no longer lost in the hallways of our minds, but rather found posted on feeds, permanent yet temporary. Our voices have been lost to messages, messages to misplaced letters. Our dreams vanish when confronted by reality, dreamt of yet unwanted. We cross bridges into the future, but collapse under the pressure of the past. We cross bridges built for everybody, no bodies left behind. Our lives are defined by our mark on the world, marked and marked again, till ours are only indistinguishable from theirs. Us or them, marks nonetheless. We are never remembered, only less forgotten.