We consider time in all the ways it cannot be. It cannot be filled, or spent, or wasted. It is not malleable, it is not better or worse, slower or faster, more valuable.
We can pretend we have control over time in the way that our minds perceive it, that is powerful enough. But it is an illusion and nothing more.
Funny then, that I should always worry about time. Worry about how I fill it. Was that hour spent well enough? That day? That week? Was I present enough? Did I watch time fly or did I only sit to ponder it after the event of time passing, whilst it still passes now. And now. And still now.
What is an hour spent well? When I was happy? When I was working hard at something I care about? When I was working hard at something I don’t?
For the whole of September I have been telling people that I am “filling time” before I go back to university. Filling it up because I’m bored, waiting for my real life to start again.
My real life. What does that involve then? Perhaps just an easier way to “fill” that time. A distraction from time. Fewer hours spent watching time pass.