The first scratch on something you recently bought and absolutely love always hurts.
No matter how much you’ve heard people say, “Every scratch tells a story,” it never really convinces you in that moment. Somewhere, your wandering mind already knows that this isn’t even a story worth telling. Most of the time, you don’t even remember how it got the scratch, you just happen to notice it one day.
But then time passes. Slowly, it starts growing on you. It becomes part of its character. Something that could never be replicated without being connected to you. You have seen it change. You have seen it transform. You have seen it become yours, not just something you own. The first scratch frees you from the fear of using it.
I’m not going to deny the fact that the first scratch always, always hurts. But it’s also the scratch that brings the function out of the object. It reminds you that the object has a life of its own, that it has started to age. The first scratch brings you closer to its core and reminds you that an object well used is an object well loved.
