Entries of a Wrist Cutter

These are the entries of a wrist cutter. A self harmer suffering from BPD, borderline personality disorder. The entries include prose and poetry, and are semi-autobiographical.


11. Drugs or Me


Today I feel as though a heavy weight has entered my body and is pulling me down. I feel as though I’m sinking… guilt; the worst feeling to drag around with you. I never meant to hurt Jamie. It was never in my intentions. I always wanted to protect her from everyone and everything around her. But what I didn’t realise was that I had to protect her from myself…

I lied to her… A year ago I smoked hash with a friend, and I told her that I didn’t. But we met up with him the other day, we went to the beach, and he started talking about that time we got high together… Jamie’s face instantly changed. Her eyes were full of rage. She stormed off, and I followed, leaving my friend stranded on the beach, alone. The tears streamed down my face as I tried my best to calm her down, but she wouldn’t have any of it. I didn’t know what to do. I tried time and time again to explain, but I was fighting a lost cause. She lost all trust in me. Things would never be the same again.

My drug addiction has been a major problem in our relationship. Jamie advised me to stop, and I promised her that I would. And I did stop for a few months, until this incident occurred. I couldn’t help it, I didn’t know how to say no. I didn’t want to say no. It’s sick! But I can’t help it. I’m not dependent on drugs anyway, I just got used to taking them. I don’t need drugs in my life, and I have been clean ever since that time. Well… A few months ago I had a near death experience involving drugs.

A friend of mine wanted to meet up, and I asked if there was anything illegal involved, and he assured me that there was not. Trusting him I went along. However, on the way to his house he stopped the car somewhere and some guy came and handed him something… He handed it over to me and told me to smell it. I did. I asked him what it was, and he replied that he had no idea, but that it should be something very chilling. We finally arrived at his house, where we listened to music and rolled the joint. We went outside and smoked it. I must have overdosed, because suddenly I thought I was dying.

Stupidly, I sent Jamie a message begging her to be at my house later on that night. She realised that something wasn’t right about the way my text made no sense. The next thing I remember is being on the phone to her, crying; begging for her to be with me. I kept repeating that I was going to die, that I couldn’t breathe and that I was a schizophrenic. My friend agreed with me that I was a schizophrenic and took me home. My mum looked after me until Jamie arrived. I stayed in her arms until I sobered up. And that was when she left.

We broke up of course, but I didn’t give up. I kept calling her and crying on the phone to her, asking for forgiveness, trying to get her to understand that I couldn’t say no, that I didn’t go looking for it, and that I made a big mistake. Finally she gave in and we got back together, on the condition that I would never touch drugs again, nor have contact with anyone else who dealt with drugs. Of course I agreed, lost all my friends but at least I was back together with Jamie. That’s all that mattered to me.

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