Ode to my nails: obliterated by the college process


Brooke Fried '22

The college process is not only destructive to one’s mental health but also to their nails.

My dearest, most beautiful voluminous nails


It’s been months since I last saw you, and things just aren’t the same. I feel lost without you — like a piece of my identity has been ripped straight from my nail beds. I have no one to blame but myself; I was the one who peeled you apart, and now you’re practically destroyed. 

Ever since the beginning of my senior year, things took a turn for the worst. I lost control, letting my anxiety get the best of me. The stress of submitting first semester grades, adding on an additional AP class and waiting to hear back from colleges drove me mad beyond belief. I tore you and my cuticles apart, making my skin burn, putting me into a deeper and sadder state of mind. 

You and I traversed most of my life together, giving me the biggest ego as I stepped foot out of the nail salon because of your utter beauty. You were the longest natural nails people had ever seen, and because of that, you were the talk of the nail salon. You attracted lots of attention, which I typically hate, but with you, things were different. I liked the praise and admiration because you built up my confidence. I happily flaunted you and made those around me envious. 

You also allowed me to explore my inner creativity, exposing me to a new world of art through the utilization of nail stamps, stickers and even the depths of classic cheetah print. I was fearful of change; but, you allowed me to step out of my comfort zone. 

I hurt you, and in the process I hurt myself. 

I apologize. I miss you and I’m trying my best to get you back to the way things used to be. I hope to see you soon. 




An anxious senior girl