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.


8. Forest of Depression


I feel like shit. Nothing is going right for me lately. Jamie and I keep arguing all the time, I haven’t got the strength to study anything, and I have midterms coming up and essays to hand in. I’m so stressed. I have no one to turn to. So the only place I am welcomed with open arms is my depression.

If you open the doors to depression you will see the pain and suffering. It’s like a dark forest. Scary. There is a fearful atmosphere all around; but it is beautiful. Walking in the dark is like being blind. When you are depressed it is as though you are blind; light is absent from your world. The darkness is so strong but you feel a certain safety, despite the fear. Pulling back the curtains of depression you will see the tears and the sadness, the loneliness and destruction.

It’s hard to describe but it’s definitely cold here. Very cold indeed. It’s also very quiet here. Silent. You could hear a pin drop. Most of the time it’s misty, and sometimes it rains. When there’s a storm, it’s scary, powerful, but again beautiful. Somehow there is beauty in the darkness, beauty in the silence, and beauty in the fear. Walking through the forest of depression is like going on a journey to find your soul. It’s a long journey and only the strongest survive such a venture.

Just as you see the light, a ferocious beast jumps out and attacks you. This beast, this monster, doesn’t want you to leave the realms of depression. It surrounds you with mirrors, and shines a light, and suddenly you realise that the monster was you all along. And you will always be a prisoner to yourself, living in the forest of depression.

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