“Oh my God, guys, this is the first time I’ve ever tried Chick-fil-A.”
“Hey guys, this is my first trip ever.”
“This is the first time I’ve ever seen something like this.”
If you spend even a few minutes on TikTok or Instagram, you have heard it before. Firsts have become the internet’s favourite currency. They signal excitement, authenticity, and importance. Somewhere along the way, we started treating the word first like a prerequisite, like a moment that only matters if it is happening for the very first time.
And I get it. Firsts are special. They are raw and unfiltered. They are the moment something leaves its first impression on you, the first time your heart decides whether it likes or dislikes something. Firsts carve an initial space in us. They matter.
But I think we have started to romanticize them so much that we have forgotten everything that comes after.
Social media has subtly taught us that if something is not a first, it is less relevant. We see endless series online, but without the word first attached, they feel quieter, less clickable. As if repetition means failure instead of effort. As if trying again somehow makes the story less interesting.
That mindset is dangerous. Because when firsts become the standard, what incentive is there to try again?
I have felt this personally. Learning a new skill or picking up a hobby has often felt intimidating, not because I did not want to learn, but because I was afraid of being bad at it the first time. There is an unspoken pressure to be impressive immediately. And when that does not happen, the question creeps in: why am I even doing this?
But the truth is, there’s so much beauty in everything that follows the first. The second try is when you are slightly less unsure. The third is when you start to understand what went wrong. The fourth and fifth is when persistence slowly turns into confidence. The tenth is when you realize you have grown.
The hundredth is when you look back and barely recognize the version of yourself who started.
What is ironic is that we already know this. We love stories built on repetition. We read books and watch films about characters who fail, reassess, try again, and push through obstacles before they succeed. A story that starts with someone trying once and instantly succeeding would not move us: it would end too quickly. The stories that stay with us are the ones shaped by endurance.
Yet online, we pretend the opposite.
We scroll past people faking “first times,” exaggerating reactions, and manufacturing novelty. When everyone claims a first, it stops feeling genuine. It stops translating. And somehow, the honesty of real journeys—messy, nonlinear, repetitive—gets buried under performance.
I see this, especially in university. I have met people in their thirties taking the same courses I am, not because it is their first attempt, but because it is their second or third. I have seen students retake classes they failed, again and again, refusing to give up. These stories do not get celebrated enough, even though the determination behind them is immense. The expectation to succeed is still there, but the appreciation should be greater when success comes after struggle.
There is something incredibly powerful about choosing to try again. Your second attempt is not a step down from your first. Your third might matter even more, because it shows commitment. It shows belief in yourself when the outcome is not guaranteed. It shows growth.
Not everything has to be a first to be impressive. Not everything needs to be new to be meaningful. Your journey does not lose value because it took longer or because it was not linear. Numbers, rankings, or timelines do not define it. It is defined by the fact that you kept going.
Firsts will always be special. But they are not the only moments worth celebrating. Let us be honest about our journeys.
Let us make room for second tries, third chances, and quiet persistence. Because sometimes, staying is far more powerful than starting.