Waste of time

Do we have a constant need to categorize things that we do as productive and unproductive? The heart says read fiction and the brain says 'read non-fiction that is productive'.

I crave to experience those childhood days again when life was innocent, had no responsibilities, had nothing to prove and I felt ecstatic over non-materialistic things. I would spend hours making paper boats and looking at them move in a pond from one end to the other. I did it goal-free and guilt-free. No one (including my brain) had opinions on how I spent my time. 

 'You read a lot, looks like you have a lot of time to waste' someone said. 

It is amazing to see people who have figured out what 'waste of time' is while I am still contemplating what 'time' means...When the whole existence and time in itself seems to be a waste of time :-) It exists with no purpose, goal, meaning... and it is going to end without any achievements, accolades, or even anyone to remember that it was there. 

I think you get the gist.