Famous words have echoed, reverberated against the eardrums of those preoccupied with anxious yearning for direction. “Youth is wasted on the young,” a frightening delineation of an internal struggle many of us experience, attributed to Charles Bernard Shaw.

How many of us stop to reflect about the brutality that is even the shortness of our lives? If one were to reflect, they may find themselves tormented by the inhumanity of humanity — we have only one opportunity. So how can one reconcile with the reality that we only get one chance? That after an average of 75-80 years of struggle, heartbreak, failure, success — all phases of a life inevitably worn upon a tired face, it ends.

Now imagine if one were to be constantly aware of that concept. Would it cause some sort of existential breakdown? Humans are creatures eternally seeking destination, purpose, reason. A “why” for one’s existence upon this earth, in this given moment. This, coupled with the almost desperate urgency to ensure we take true advantage of this time we’ve been seemingly arbitrarily given is surely a recipe for aspiration and motivation.

Where one tends to falter — a life “well spent” cannot be determined by anyone other than oneself. The subjectivity of a person’s definition of meaning is truly the only thing that matters. Unfortunately it seems that many lack the wherewithal, or fear, to recognize what it is that brings both happiness, and whether this self-determined purpose we’ve destined for ourselves is utilizing true potential. How terrifying it is to think that we could be dedicating our time to something that does not steer us toward an avenue of progress.

Time is the most precious and valuable commodity we have, and yet, for some odd reason, it is the thing we waste the most.