Time is a real indifferent bastard.
It takes, consumes, and gives nothing back.
Once an hour is wasted, there is no return for it.
That kind of loss stings forever.
Missed moments.
Opportunities passed.
They’re my personal Hell.
Hours lost chasing an efficiency never to be regained.
Sacred moments missed while I worked through their youth;
and my own.
Justified it as the cost of a career, the price of ownership.
There is some truth to that.
But mostly, it is only a hollow excuse.
We chase productivity like it alone is the purpose.
We all seem to watch those who made us who we are grow old,
Now, somewhat unable to enjoy the life they spent so long building.
In the End:
So little of what we do actually matters,
Yet each decision echoes in eternity.
There’s always a price to pay when we are not present,
Not just in what we miss,
but in who we become.
Time is best spent sparingly,
yet we waste it so frivolously.
Scrolling, grinding, optimizing…
All while the sacred slips through our fingers.
Presence isn’t passive.
It’s a modern rebellion.
It’s choosing to be here,
even when the world demands we be elsewhere.
It’s not easy. But it’s one of the only fights worth showing up for.
Matty Thinks 
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