Building Meaning in Finite Time
You’re lying in bed, scrolling. Two hours vanish before you even realize it’s happening—until suddenly you do. And there it is: the awareness. Your book’s still on the nightstand. Your essay’s waiting on your laptop. The puzzle’s half-finished on the table. The coloring supplies are untouched.
I catch myself here, too. Not in a guilt-spiral way, but in that quiet moment where you realize: this is finite time, and I’m choosing how it goes. That’s when everything shifts. Because it’s not really about doing enough—it’s about whether I’m actually building something that feels like mine.
Photo by Jesse Blom on Unsplash
The weird thing about …