Everyone gets 24 hours.
Rich or poor, young or old, hustler or drifter, everyone gets the same deal.
The difference isn’t how much you have.
It’s how you spend it.
When I was younger, I spent it like it was endless.
Hours scrolling. Nights and days spent on Football Manager.
Steam registered I’d clocked 1,500 hours in a single year.
That’s full two months of my life. Gone to pixels.
At the time, I told myself it was harmless. A hobby.
Looking back, it wasn’t harmless. It was a quiet leak.
Every hour I gave away was one I’d never get back.
Here’s the truth.
Money can be lost and earned again.
Reputation can be rebuilt.
But time is one-way. Once you spend it, it’s gone.
Most people trade their hours for money.
That’s what a job is.
Nothing wrong with that.
The problem is never asking: Was it a fair trade?
Your time goes somewhere every day:
- into money,
- into health,
- into family,
- into distraction.
At the end of your life, no one asks how much money you made.
They ask how you spent your time.
Your life is just the sum of your trades.
Money buys time.
Time reveals meaning.
Meaning gives value back to both.
The richest person in any room isn’t the one with the biggest account.
It’s the one who spends their hours deliberately.
And once you see where your time really goes, another question follows: Do you like the person spending it?
That’s where the clock turns inward. Into how you see and treat yourself.
What did your last week’s “bank statement” say?
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