The Value of Time

Time is the most valuable currency we have—far more expensive than anything money can buy. You can’t put a price on it. And yet, it’s traded every day: when we pay for convenience, when we choose speed over presence, or when advertisers capitalize on our attention. Time is what powers media, fuels celebrity, and defines progress. But when our own timeline begins to run out—when we are faced with the fragility of life—we would give anything to buy just one more minute. In that moment, time becomes truly priceless.

For something so precious, it’s ironic how little we cherish it. We chase success, endure hardship, and often convince ourselves that temporary unhappiness is just the price we must pay for future joy. But the truth is—there are no guarantees. Not of tomorrow. Not of happiness. Not even of reaching what we desire.

That doesn’t mean I’m here to say, “Go against the system! Break free!” I’m realistic. I understand this cycle, and I participate in it too. I do the work I need to do, even if it doesn’t bring me joy in the moment, because I believe it’s part of building the future I dream of—even if that dream has no promised ending. Even if happiness isn’t waiting for me there.

I study every day toward my goals, as I must. But I also make a conscious effort to infuse my life with fulfillment. What that looks like to me may be different for you. For me, it’s finding joy in the quiet moments: a good book, a meaningful video, a handwritten letter, or a warm evening spent taking care of myself. That’s enough for me.

The past two months, I made the decision to step away from social media. It had become an addiction—not just for me, but for much of the world. It was how I spent nearly all my free time, and it wasn’t serving me. The constant flood of messages, criticism, and pressure to be “liked” was exhausting. I realized I was wasting so much time trying to be liked by strangers who didn’t even know me. And I didn’t really know them either.

Since stepping away, I’ve felt more at peace. I’ve returned to writing, reading, and surrounding myself with real conversations and genuine connections. I’ve met people, listened to stories, and shared my own. To me, that’s beautiful. That’s time well spent. I would rather use my time cultivating a small circle of truth than building a following based on filtered perceptions.

I wish I had realized this sooner—but in many ways, I always knew. Still, because of my role, saying “no” to the online world was never an option. Social media was part of the job, and I don’t regret it. I knew what I signed up for. I learned a lot. But I’ve also learned that it’s okay to outgrow something. It’s okay to realize it’s no longer for you.

Now, I want people to get to know me through my words. Through thoughts that can’t be captured in a single frame. Writing feels personal. And even though I love taking photos when I feel beautiful, I no longer want to chase validation through appearance. Because it never ends—you just keep trying to look better, post more, compare harder.

I recently read something by a composer who was once praised as “the greatest of all time.” But he rejected that label. He said: There is no greatest composer or artist. Art is not a competition. It exists to move people—to create feeling, not rankings. I found that profoundly beautiful. And it reminded me that life, too, is not a race. We all offer something different. The point is to make people feel something. That’s what I hope to do—with my words, with my actions, with my time.

And I think often now about time. Because time is not infinite. Not for any of us. And in my case, I was recently diagnosed with heart disease—something I’ll live with for the rest of my life. Accepting that hasn’t been easy. But it has given me clarity.

I now ask myself every day: How do I want to spend the rest of my time? Who do I want to spend it with? What will I do with it?

I want to see the places I’ve always dreamed of. I want to help the people I’m able to help. I want to eat the food I love. And I want to spend quiet moments with my dog, Tsuki. Of course, there are limitations—money, logistics, health. But I believe I can find a way. And I’ve already begun. And I feel so happy.

This post might feel scattered—because in many ways, it’s just a stream of my thoughts. But if I can leave you with one message, it’s this:

Please, cherish your time. Don’t waste it. And don’t waste the time of others. If you’re able, use your time to help people. Make someone’s day. Volunteer in a way that speaks to you. I say this because doing so has made my life feel fuller. When you give your time with intention, and with love, you create something lasting. You help others feel seen. And in return, your time becomes more than yours—it becomes something that matters.

Always with love,

Kaya