"the sun rises and the sun sets, and hurries back to where it rises..."

I blinked hard a few times and then opened my eyes. I didn't like where I found myself, because the overhead light was on and it was 4:30 a.m. The past, pointless three hours felt only seconds long: from the moment I chose a poor decision until its aftermath, time erased and blurred; and in the end I felt all the more empty. I like that we use the phrase "killing time," as if time well-spent were somehow alive, and time  spent poorly has breath until we slaughter it.  Something about "killing time" adds a little mortality  to our own hearts. I'm always talking about not being wasteful, not settling, not succumbing to defeat; still, I am sucking the vitality out of each moment simply with the way I occupy time. Occasionally, I will believe that I'm the only one who  maintains such ideals: that there is more to time than  living thoughtlessly and there is something to be done about it - not that I am any different from others, as I  spend the majority of my days in wasteful, meaningless  activities. Even still, I would like to see another stand up  from his recliner and say, "...yeah." Or, even, not in  agreement, but of his own accord, without first knowing  my thoughts. Time spent poorly is, in essence, wasted. Dead. Grades below the very potential it could have, as it might never be redeemed. So, recently, I'm considering moments -  one by one, actually. Each of them must mean something. Since givng up the nail-biting, I've been chewing the insides  of my mouth. Apparently, I'm still concerned about something. It could have something to do with the countless hours I spend,  lying on my living room floor, staring up at the rotating celing fan, trying to figure out my next move; or it could involve the time I spend awake, when I could be sleeping, and how my activities in those hours are mundane and empty; still, I could just be  freaking out that I'm getting older and I have to continually learn the same lessons again and again, because for 2.4 decades, I've hardly grown. I always wish to be wiser, but I'm not. I want to be mature, so I'm  trying. I am hoping not to get so caught up in the adventure that  I lose my head and begin killing time once again. And in relation  to all things: am I just killing time? Waiting for something better to occur? Looking to the brighter days? Or is there something to be said for the very moment I am living... "...the sun rises and the sun sets, and then goes back to where it  rises..."  Somewhere in between these things, it's a good idea to make proper  use of time.