Authorpreneur Dashboard – Blue Evergarden
Diaries of a Borderline
Literature & Fiction
Blue Evergarden’s Diaries of a Borderline offers an intimate and transformative poetic journey, following a single protagonist’s quest for self-love and healing. Artfully divided into four parts, each section vividly portrays a tumultuous emotional odyssey.
Part 1, Diaries of a Borderline, centers on unraveling the aftermath of trauma. Chronicling the protagonist’s struggle with dissociation, loneliness, and the elusive pursuit of reclaiming a shattered identity.
Delving deeper in Part 2, This is Why She Falls Apart, Evergarden explores the delicate tapestry of self-worth and self-love, tracing the complicated journey of survival and reliance amidst inner turmoil and despair.
Entering a transformative phase in Part 3, Leaving Her Graveyard, the protagonist awakens to the potential of becoming everything she once believed she wasn’t, finding the resilience to confront her inner demons and emerge stronger.
Part 4, The Gifts She Found, celebrates the protagonist’s triumphant emergence into self-acceptance and inner tranquility. This final section encapsulates the euphoria of releasing past burdens, discovering self-love, and embracing the promise of a brighter future.
Diaries of a Borderline is a poignant, soul-stirring journey through the complexities of mental health and the transformative power of healing. With vivid prose and raw emotion, Evergarden weaves a tapestry of hope and resilience, inspiring those who tread similar paths.
Book Bubbles from Diaries of a Borderline
f r a g m e n t : falling into herself
This isn’t just a poem—it’s a resurrection. Diaries of a Borderline is the raw archive of survival I wrote while clawing myself back from the edge. I didn’t write this to save anyone else. I wrote it because no one came for me. This is for the ones too tender to be diagnosed. The ones whose pain was too vast to name. The ones they called “too much,” “too sensitive,” “too late.” You were never too anything. You were always holy. You are the Diaries of a Borderline. ___________________________________ Diaries of a Borderline is available now — only $0.99 for a limited time. Over 1,000+ readers have already entered to win the Goodreads giveaway. Join them. Read the book. Let it hold the parts of you that never had language. My Substack is where I continue these letters — in prose, in verse, in truth. Subscribe for deeper dives & sacred reflections. (link in bio)
How Do You Swim in a Heart That’s Flooding?
Water has always spoken to me. Not just as an element—but as a mirror. When I wrote this passage, I wasn’t just romanticizing ritual. I was pleading with something ancient and sacred within me: Teach me how to wade through this flood of feeling without drowning. With BPD, emotion doesn’t come in ripples—it crashes. And when the waves come, they don’t ask permission. The tide of grief, of hope, of memory—it rises all at once. This passage was a prayer. A soul-vow. A moment of soft defiance against the part of me that wanted to disappear. I wanted the moonlight to teach me how to walk on myself. How to tread water in the depths of me and not be swallowed whole. "As above, so below." To me, that means: if there’s chaos inside, there can also be reflection. If there’s grief, there can also be grace. This isn’t just a poem. It’s a map. And if you’ve ever needed a guide through your inner ocean, Diaries of a Borderline might be that lighthouse.
When Self-Hate Becomes a Ritual
Some rituals aren’t sacred—they’re survival. For me, self-hate wasn’t just a thought. It was a daily incantation, cast with every silence, every wound, every inherited lie that said I was too much or not enough. I used to think I was conjuring monsters by being broken. But the truth is—they were already there. I’ve traced scars like prayer beads, hoping some god or flicker of light would finally see me, finally recognize I was never fine. That the performance of strength wasn’t salvation. This passage was one of the hardest I’ve ever written. Because sometimes, the monsters we hide from are the ones we learned to love first. And when we speak to the dead—every version of them, including who we used to be—they answer. If you’ve ever fought your own reflection, if your pain has ever felt ritualistic, Diaries of a Borderline was written for you.
Where Do You Go When You Dissociate?
12:00 a.m. is the hour when I become both past and present. When my body remains, but my mind drifts—pulled into places I swore I’d never return to. Dissociation is an old companion. It carries me to the graveyards of promises never made, to the weight of love that is more ghost than comfort. My mother exists in those in-between spaces—not as who she was, but as who I needed her to be. I used to think grief was just sorrow, but sometimes it’s exhaustion. The burden of keeping the dead alive in memory, the responsibility of loving them when the love was never given freely. Who will remember them when I’m gone? And worse—What if she was right about me? The spiral pulls me under. I have always been afraid that loving her will consume me, that forgiving her will require too much of me, that if I put her down, I will disappear too. But I return. The light phases through. It’s time for bed. This passage isn’t just about grief—it’s about survival. About the way trauma rewires memory, how the past follows, how the body carries what the mind tries to leave behind. If you’ve ever felt lost inside your own history, Diaries of a Borderline was written for you. Experience the book that speaks the unspeakable. Order your copy today.
No One Is Coming—But You Are
I used to believe healing was something that would happen to me—like if I endured long enough, the pain would dissolve on its own. I imagined there would be a moment, some divine rupture in time, where I would wake up and the weight of my trauma would be gone. A rescue, a miracle, a day where it just stopped hurting. But no one was coming. Like the girl in this passage, I waited in my own graveyard, convinced I was too broken to save myself. People told me I had gifts, that I was strong, that I would find my way out—but all I could see was the vultures. All I could hear was the voice of survival that whispered, just keep breathing, just endure another day. What they don’t tell you is that healing isn’t about waiting. It’s about learning to rise while you’re still bleeding. It’s about facing the monsters when your hands are still shaking. It’s about realizing that your gifts aren’t some future revelation—they’re inside you, even now. This passage is for the ones who are still waiting. You are already the person who survives this. The dawn is already inside you.
The Girl Who Fell, But Not Forever
There was a time I thought survival meant endless fighting—that to stop was to lose. But exhaustion teaches its own truths. This girl isn’t just a character; she’s the part of me that has stood at the edge of surrender, wondering if silence was the only way to be free. She’s tired of fighting shadows, of carrying gifts that feel more like burdens. But falling isn’t the same as failing. Sometimes, we let go not to disappear, but to find a new way forward. To rest. To breathe. To remember that even in the dark, we are not lost. I have fallen many times, but I am still here. And so is she.
