Don’t Waste Your Life

The alarm rang at 9:30 a.m., but Hamza did not move. He stared at the ceiling, scrolling endlessly through his phone. One video became ten. Ten became fifty. Outside his window, the sun had already climbed high, shining brightly over the small town where life was moving forward without him.
Hamza was nineteen, full of dreams once—but lately, those dreams felt distant. He used to talk about becoming a civil engineer, about building strong bridges and tall buildings that would carry his name into the future. But now, his days were filled with excuses.
“I’ll start tomorrow,” he often said.
Tomorrow became next week. Next week became next month.
His mother would gently knock on his door. “Beta, the day is going. Do something meaningful.”
“I will,” he would reply lazily, never lifting his eyes from the screen.
Hamza was not a bad person. He was kind, polite, and intelligent. But he had fallen into the dangerous habit of wasting time. He didn’t realize that time is the only treasure that never returns once spent.
One evening, while wandering outside aimlessly, he noticed an old man sitting on a bench near the park. The man was writing in a small notebook, his hands wrinkled but steady. Curious and slightly bored, Hamza sat down beside him.
“What are you writing?” Hamza asked.
“My memories,” the old man replied with a soft smile. “I am writing about the life I lived.”
“Was it a good life?” Hamza asked casually.
The old man paused. His eyes grew distant. “Some parts were beautiful. Some parts… I wasted.”
Hamza looked at him more closely.
“When I was your age,” the old man continued, “I had many opportunities. I wanted to start a business. I wanted to travel. I wanted to learn new skills. But I kept delaying. I kept thinking I had plenty of time.”
He closed the notebook slowly.
“Now I am seventy-eight. I have time—but not the energy. I have wisdom—but not the years.”
The words struck Hamza harder than he expected.
“Do you regret it?” Hamza asked quietly.
“Yes,” the old man said honestly. “Not because I failed. But because I never truly tried.”
That sentence echoed in Hamza’s mind the entire night.
Not because I failed. But because I never truly tried.
Back in his room, Hamza stared at his ceiling again. But this time, his phone lay silent beside him. He imagined himself at seventy-eight, holding a notebook filled with regrets. The thought frightened him.
He began thinking about his father, who worked long hours every day to support the family. About his mother, who prayed for his success. About his younger sister, who looked up to him as a role model.
Was he truly living? Or was he just passing time?
The next morning, Hamza did something unusual. He woke up at 6 a.m. The sky was still painted in soft shades of pink and orange. For the first time in months, he watched the sunrise.
It felt different.
He opened his notebook and wrote three simple goals:
Study for three hours daily.
Exercise for thirty minutes.
Learn one new skill every month.
They were small goals—but they were a start.
The first week was difficult. His mind constantly whispered, “Just relax today. You can start tomorrow.” But he remembered the old man’s regretful eyes. He forced himself to continue.
Slowly, discipline replaced laziness.
He began preparing for university entrance exams seriously. He reduced his time on social media. He started reading books about successful people—not just their achievements, but their struggles.
He learned that greatness is not built in comfort. It is built in effort.
Months passed.
Hamza didn’t become a genius overnight. He didn’t suddenly turn into a millionaire. But he changed in a deeper way—he respected his time.
When friends invited him to waste hours doing nothing, he sometimes joined—but in moderation. He understood that rest is important, but wasting life is dangerous.
One afternoon, he visited the park again. The old man was there, writing as usual.
“You look different,” the old man observed with a smile.
“I stopped waiting for tomorrow,” Hamza replied.
The old man nodded slowly. “That is the secret. Tomorrow is a promise that is never guaranteed.”
Hamza sat beside him and shared his new routine, his goals, and his small victories. The old man listened proudly.
“Remember,” the old man said, “life is not about being busy every second. It is about being purposeful. Even a small step each day can change your entire future.”
Years later, Hamza stood on a construction site, wearing a white helmet with his company’s logo printed on it. He had completed his engineering degree. It wasn’t easy. There were failures, sleepless nights, and moments of doubt. But he never returned to the habit of wasting time carelessly.
He often told his team, “Time is like water in your hands. If you don’t use it wisely, it slips away.”
One evening, after finishing work, Hamza visited the same park bench. The old man was no longer there. A local vendor told him softly, “He passed away last winter.”
Hamza felt a wave of sadness—but also gratitude.
He sat on the bench and opened his own notebook.
He began writing:
“Today I completed another project. I helped build something that will stand for decades. I am tired—but proud.”
He smiled gently.
He understood something powerful: Life is not wasted in one big mistake. It is wasted in small daily neglect. In endless scrolling. In constant delay. In fear of trying.
And life is built the same way—through small daily efforts. Through discipline. Through courage to start.
As the sun began to set, painting the sky golden, Hamza whispered to himself:
“Don’t waste your life. You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to begin.”
The wind moved softly through the trees, as if agreeing.
Every sunrise is a silent gift. It arrives without asking for anything in return. But it also carries a quiet question:
What will you do with today?
Hamza finally knew the answer.
He would not waste it.