I have an obsession with time; its nuances, uses, having too much, not having enough, banking it, spending it, wasting it, or lackthereof. I have an obsession with being early, with hours being used to their fullest, with days being spent awake and not asleep so as to appreciate every single second of every single day without regret, fitting in every single possible detail of every hour.
I woke up at 3:40am this morning; I left the house at 4:40am – in that hour, I had time to ensure all of my belongings were ready to go for when I returned home after going to the gym, I had time to check my email, and I had time to just sit and think and listen to music. That time… the time to sit and think and listen to music… is the time that I need more than anything. Because without it, I would be rushing through everything that means everything to me. And it’s that time that I allot every single day, if and whenever humanly possible. It is that time that I cherish and treasure and delight in and value most of all.
I’m not someone who divides their time evenly; I hear people say they love to have “me-time”; my whole life is “me-time”; and that’s as I like it be. I like to take time for myself whenever and however possible, and do what makes me happy in the time that I have.
Having extra time is as addictive as having second helpings of pie.