I have a small notebook that I keep in my pocket whenever I go out so that I can record any thoughts as they come to me. Yesterday, I took out my notebook, opened it up, and heard an audible crack. I examined the notebook and I couldn't find what part of it had made that sound, but I did notice other things. The hard cover had dents in it. The corners on the spine were frayed. Pages and ink smears. The strip of fabric that's used as a bookmark is flattened in some parts and splayed out in others.
Yesterday was the first day that my notebook was officially broken in. It is an arbitrary decision, of course, but it's still no less important. When something is no longer pristine in my mind, I look at it differently, and I treat it differently. A pristine notebook (or pen or book or anything else) has to be taken care of. It's only new once, so you want it to last as long as you can. Eventually, though, anything that is used regularly will acquire those signs of wear, and when enough of them accumulate, it becomes painfully obvious that it is no longer pristine.
The nice thing about something being broken-in is that I stop worrying about it. It becomes an everyday item. I care more about its functionality than its aesthetic. It stops being a treasure, but starts being a tool.
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