Weeks blur together when they’re copy-paste. Change one small thing and the week gets a timestamp.

Memory stores difference rather than duration. A week identical to the one before gives your mind nothing to file separately, so the two fold together and the year seems to accelerate. The sense that time is disappearing is usually a storage problem rather than a scheduling one.

Put one new thing in each week, small enough that it costs you almost nothing. A different route, a person you have not seen, a place you have never been. It is not about a fuller life so much as a week you can tell apart from the others afterward.