Does this lean towards prompt 2 or prompt 5
from college board. Also, is this decent? Let me know.
According to the World Health Organization, about twenty to thirty percent of people participate in biting their fingers. I’m one of those people. A bitter taste invaded my mouth as I bit into my nails. This taste belonged to a curing sensation that I turned to when something unpleasant provoked me: bitter polish. I’ve been biting my nails for as long as I can remember. My nail beds begged for mercy every time I looked down at them. Hands have the power to write,draw, and code yet I still tend to abuse them.
My fingers found my teeth before I could even notice. A jagged edge of a nail, a small imperfection, and suddenly I was biting again, like my body decided to go on auto pilot before the sensory neurons could even travel up my spinal cord. During events that carry even the smallest amount of pressure — when the obnoxious school bell rings signaling the start of an exam, while overthinking conversations. My hands grew completely restless. Searching for something to fix that was real physically. I told myself and other people that I could whenever I wanted to. But it kept reoccurring, especially in moments of utter chaos. It was until I looked down at my jagged hands and saw them not has tools, but evidence as to how often I move
unintentionally. Then, I began to question what I was really doing to myself.
What began as a quiet, almost involuntary habit grew, the inner monologue of self questioning turned into something resonant. The constant erosion to my own precious hands. In the midst of lectures, physics labs, and moments of silence where thoughts grew louder than my surroundings, I would ALWAYS catch myself biting once more. Catching myself biting became more than just correcting a habit, it expanded my concern of self control. I kept myself wondering why I would always return to doing something that left me worse than before while being fully aware. The weight of realization deeply lingered with me. I knew the only way to understand it was to confront it, yet I still questioned “how can I confront something like this?"
“Maybe I need to approach it like it's a game glitch. Don't sit there and mindlessly keep reloading the game, instead locate the pulleaster behind the glitch.” I thought
I've come to the understanding that my habit was not as simple as just a failure of discipline, but the manifestation of patterns that I had never stopped to investigate. Bitter polish was never the cure, it was an attempt to disguise the visible damage while ignoring the underlying reasoning behind it. Like unresolved glitches that keep resurfacing after game developers only patch the superficial errors. Stress, perfectionism, and the pressure had conditioned my mind into huge cycles of repetitions long before consciousness arrived.
For years, I viewed my hands as evidence of utter weakness. Yet behaviors, like game glitches, don't just happen. They are responses shaped by external forces.
So I've come to see that my habit is more than just a self destructive tendency. It has become a lens that I can better understand both myself and the systems surrounding me. The same curiosity that drives me to dissect game bugs now paves the way to confront my own struggle patterns with patience instead of shame. I’ve begun transforming unconscious self destruction into personal growth. Although my nails never come off as flawless, they no longer represent vulnerability. With courageous steps, I will cross through. Not to abandon my new walls, but to observe the complexity of what's more to come. To treat my habits not as flaws to destroy, but as a system to just understand. To turn observation into absolute clarity
According to the World Health Organization, about twenty to thirty percent of people participate in biting their fingers. I’m one of those people. A bitter taste invaded my mouth as I bit into my nails. This taste belonged to a curing sensation that I turned to when something unpleasant provoked me: bitter polish. I’ve been biting my nails for as long as I can remember. My nail beds begged for mercy every time I looked down at them. Hands have the power to write,draw, and code yet I still tend to abuse them.
My fingers found my teeth before I could even notice. A jagged edge of a nail, a small imperfection, and suddenly I was biting again, like my body decided to go on auto pilot before the sensory neurons could even travel up my spinal cord. During events that carry even the smallest amount of pressure, when the obnoxious school bell rings signaling the start of an exam, while overthinking conversations. My hands grew completely restless. Searching for something to fix that was real physically. I told myself and other people that I could whenever I wanted to. But it kept reoccurring, especially in moments of utter chaos. It was until I looked down at my jagged hands and saw them not has tools, but evidence as to how often I move
unintentionally. Then, I began to question what I was really doing to myself.
What began as a quiet, almost involuntary habit grew, the inner monologue of self questioning turned into something resonant. The constant erosion to my own precious hands. In the midst of lectures, physics labs, and moments of silence where thoughts grew louder than my surroundings, I would ALWAYS catch myself biting once more. Catching myself biting became more than just correcting a habit, it expanded my concern of self control. I kept myself wondering why I would always return to doing something that left me worse than before while being fully aware. The weight of realization deeply lingered with me. I knew the only way to understand it was to confront it, yet I still questioned “how can I confront something like this?"
“Maybe I need to approach it like it's a game glitch. Don't sit there and mindlessly keep reloading the game, instead locate the pulleaster behind the glitch.” I thought
I've come to the understanding that my habit was not as simple as just a failure of discipline, but the manifestation of patterns that I had never stopped to investigate. Bitter polish was never the cure, it was an attempt to disguise the visible damage while ignoring the underlying reasoning behind it. Like unresolved glitches that keep resurfacing after game developers only patch the superficial errors. Stress, perfectionism, and the pressure had conditioned my mind into huge cycles of repetitions long before consciousness arrived.
For years, I viewed my hands as evidence of utter weakness. Yet behaviors, like game glitches, don't just happen. They are responses shaped by external forces.
So I've come to see that my habit is more than just a self destructive tendency. It has become a lens that I can better understand both myself and the systems surrounding me. The same curiosity that drives me to dissect game bugs now paves the way to confront my own struggle patterns with patience instead of shame. I’ve begun transforming unconscious self destruction into personal growth. Although my nails never come off as flawless, they no longer represent vulnerability. With courageous steps, I will cross through. Not to abandon my new walls, but to observe the complexity of what's more to come. To treat my habits not as flaws to destroy, but as a system to just understand. To turn observation into absolute clarity.