I used to not care about what I did with the time in my life. I lived day-to-day in the sense that tomorrow wouldn't be any different. Or matter at all.
When my head is so flooded that I am not even able to listen to anyone talk, the one thing I know I can focus on is the jeering of time. It's painful, but simple: Time is beating me. It's the worst thing that ever happened to me, because it takes something from me everyday. It speeds up without my knowledge, it steals away my memories and ideas, it burns my bridges, and yanks me away from opportunities I didn't leap to quickly enough. It's unforgiving.
Once I think time and I are going the same pace, it's suddenly beyond me, and I've missed so much. I'm left borderline disoriented. One of the worst feelings I have ever had set in on me was the feeling I got when I realized how much time I've wasted, and how many dull days I've have had and never made memories and stories out of. Regret is a brick wall. I thought nothing when anyone said, "You get older everyday," but I see now that days add up to months and then years, and before you know it, you have outlived others and have nothing to show for it. Even though I understand that there is probably enough of my life left to make up for the waste, how can I know that I'll use that time wisely when so far, no matter how much conscious effort I put into trying, I haven't?
With that, I'm hoping to be able to view time as a friend. Because I know time is at least constant, and I think that's why we all waste it. We know that no matter what time takes away from us, it gives us more of itself to get those things back or replace them. That's the beauty of the messes it makes. It steals opportunity, it gives opportunity back. You just have to remember not to handle time like you did yesterday.