Time

I was emailing with my friend recently, and we were saying that there is never enough time. Even a whole day with no obligations doesn't seem to be enough time. Time for what, it doesn't matter. Brushing my teeth, editing a story--I do everything with a feeling of defeat, a sense that 'after this, there is something else,' a knowledge that I will never 'finish' or worse, 'start.' But the puzzling thing is--and the reason why I keep dwelling on this condition--often, I do absolutely nothing. I sit in a state of utter nothingness, staring at my computer or refreshing my email or noticing the dust on my desk. I am completely idle. Idle and suffocated by the time that is passing, by the time encroaching on my idleness. I have come to a few conclusions:

1. I want unlimited time to be idle. But more importantly
2. I want the construct of 'time' not to exist.
3. The existence of time creates deep despair because
4. I am a materialist, obsessed with 'having,' and my inability to 'keep' or 'hold' time catalyzes an interminable effort to hoard it, to do things in the least possible increments of time so that in the end I will have a 'backlog,' an 'overstock,' an abundance of time
5. with which I can 'do whatever I want,' read novels or write stories or other things I would categorize as 'productive' or 'enriching' but
6. this usually ends up meaning 'time to idle without feeling guilt or angst.'
7. But I always feel vague guilt, and self-loathing for not 'doing more' with the time I am allotted, and not 'doing more' in order to allot myself 'more time.'

There will probably be more conclusions. I suddenly feel very nervous and yes, very hurried.