How Borderline Personality Disorder Affects My Day as a Student

Editor’s note: If you experience suicidal thoughts or have lost someone to suicide, the following post could be potentially triggering. You can contact the Crisis Text Line by texting “START” to 741-741.

First period I sit alone in the library, probably because I don’t have any friends. I thought one girl was my friend until she responded to my invitation with a “k” instead of saying, “OK.” I think this means she doesn’t care about me. Why would she? It feels like I’m just a burden to her anyway. It’s easy to think she’s going to be happier without me hanging around her. I’ll find new friends. Then again, what’s the point? Friends suck sometimes.

Second period, I sit in the back of the class. I’m an outlier because I actually turn assignments in on time. I have good grades. I can’t be sick. If I can smile and answer questions about investments that means that I’m not sick. There’s nothing wrong. I look like I have it all put together because I can get an “A” on a test and laugh at a joke, but I feel like I’m slowly falling apart. Thoughts, feelings, actions. That’s the order. Are my thoughts fact-based?

During our 15 minute break, I go straight to my next class. I can’t run into my friends, because we’re not friends anymore. I hate them sometimes. They don’t care about me. No one does. Stop it. I’m being too dramatic, I know. Maybe I should read a book to distract myself, or I could study for the test I’m about to have since I couldn’t focus on physics last night because I lost all of my friends when the people I thought I could trust the most took five minutes to respond to my texts.

Oh no, the bell rang. I hate this class. I know this information. I bet Karen next to me is going to get a better grade. Why do I even bother coming to school? Next period means calculus and I’ll have to see my old friend. I’m going to tell him exactly how I feel about him taking forever to respond to my texts. I’m going to make sure he knows we’re not friends anymore. I’ll never forgive him.

Fifth period, I participate in class while everyone else stays silent. My old friend talks to me as if nothing happened — as if our friendship isn’t over. He thinks I’m just “mad” because of the borderline personality disorder (BPD). This time, we’re done. I can’t be friends with someone who doesn’t care about me. I take notes, but I’m not learning about Taylor Polynomials. I’m too focused on how much I hate the fact that he’s sitting next to me and acting like my feelings don’t matter.

Sixth period, he’s still there. Psychology, great. I turn around and talk to a classmate so my old friend can’t talk to me, but I think my classmate is mad at me. Why wouldn’t she be? I forgot to send her the notes from yesterday. I really messed up. I’m such a terrible person. I don’t know if I should skip lunch again today. If I go, I’d have to see my other old friend and I can’t do that, but if I don’t go, she’ll bug me about eating. I’d rather not confront her. I don’t think she deserves my forgiveness.

I work on my writing during lunch. I feel like a crummy writer. No one will ever like my stories. I am the worst writer ever. Why do I even bother? I bet my classmate is working on writing too. She must be the best writer. I probably failed the test fourth period. I feel a failure. I won’t achieve anything. Especially not now since I’m alone. My friend texts me five times asking where I am.  I sometimes think she forfeited the right to care when she didn’t give me her attention when I needed her. I don’t need her fake sympathy. It wasn’t always like this. Before, I didn’t believe the people I thought were my friends actually hated me.

Seventh period means my favorite class: English. My old friend tries to sit next to me again, but I sit on the end of the row. He doesn’t give it a second thought, doesn’t even look my way. That’s why I think he doesn’t care. He seems to be too busy talking to someone else to even notice I’m mad at him. He seems too busy to notice I’m dying on the inside and feel like I’m about to explode. I carry the class discussion as usual. I talk to my teacher about the last book we read and we have a great discussion about the meaning of companionship. I miss my friends. They must hate me.

Eighth period I don’t know what to do with myself. All of my friends are gone. Why are they gone? I pushed them away. They weren’t gone until I told them to go. I’m lost. What do I do? How can I get them back? Why would they come back? They must hate me. I hate me. It’s very rare that I act on impulses, but I’ll always act on feelings. No one understands, they think I’m doing this on purpose. Why would anyone intentionally mess up their life every day only to hit repeat the next morning? My friend texts me again and I nearly drop my phone trying to unlock it.

“Are you OK?” Is what she’s sent.

I think for a minute about how to approach the situation. She’s the perfect human being. How else could she care so much about me? I smile for the first time today because I know that my friend cares about me. She’s the best person ever. I couldn’t ask for a better best friend. I don’t want to inconvenience her, especially since I ruined the entire day by overreacting and being unreasonable, but the clawing feeling in my stomach is telling me I won’t ever have friends again because I’m not worthy. I hate myself in these moments.

“No, I need your help,” I respond.

If you or someone you know needs help, visit our suicide prevention resources page.

If you need support right now, call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-8255 or text “START” to 741-741.

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Thinkstock photo via Wavebreak Ltd.