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Mar. 12th, 2010 | 04:20 pm

I'm Elizabeth Rachel Moorman. Your first impression of me is probably a shitty one. I'm out of my mind. I draw super weird things. I listen to my music too loud. I use big words and it's confusing. Sometimes I slur my words together and talk really fast. I'm a big creepy nerd. I have wierd hair. My jeans are too tight. My last name makes me sound like a polygamist. I'm too friendly for my own good. Kids my age shouldn't be fomulating opinions. I sleep too late. I'll never have a decent job because all I do is draw, sleep, and write music and I'll never earn a living doing that. I'm great fun to talk shit about. If I dye my hair I will look like a whore. I need to stop leaving towels on the floor. I'll never be able to support a family. I'll never contribute to society. I need to wear sunglasses or I'll go blind. I need to not wear cutoffs or people get mad. I always forget to return phone calls. I'm a really mean person. I'm never quiet in the movie theatre. Sometimes I like to hit people in my car. If I'm not careful I could fall and die. Nobody likes me. I'm far too loud. Your day will always be more awesome than mine. I'm depressing to be around when I'm in a 'deep-ass' mood. I'm far too careless, and much too sarcastic. I have a sick sense of humor. Everyone thinks I'm a freak.

Life is good.

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May. 28th, 2009 | 06:45 pm

it doesn't matter how many times i try to deny it
and pretend that everything is a-okay, i can still feel it.
i can feel his filthy fucking hands on me even after i kicked and screamed and said no.
i said no. i know he heard me say it, i know he didn't care. i know.
i can still feel everyone's eyes on me, like they knew anything at all.
he got to them first, lied his way through, exactly like he did to me.
he's got a gift, with those lies. i was stupid enough to believe them, so it's my fault.
who else's fault could it possibly be?
i asked for it.

no, i didn't ask for it.
i fucking said no.

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May. 28th, 2009 | 06:42 pm

there once was a boy
who completely dissapeared
and nobody noticed or cared
and nobody cried really
they pretended to
but they didn't know him
because he never said a word
and the words were all that he had.

there once was a girl
whose entire life got fucked up
and she turned to everyone else
but herself
and because of that
she forgot who she was in the first place
and she's just a face now
and the words are all she has.

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that girl who got hospitalized

May. 28th, 2009 | 06:23 pm

i used to be like her.

after you left.
why did you even leave, what the fuck was so important that you had to end it like that?

what kind of things could you have been going through, that caused you so much pain
enough to want to escape any way you could?
i never knew, you never told me
your lips were sewn shut from day one, how could i have?
was it him? was it her? was it all of it? or were you just as terrified of everything as i am, now, but not too afraid to die?

i can imagine you there, sitting in the tub, in an inch of your own blood,
your pale lips turned down and your brow furrowed.
i can imagine what you'd tell me now. well, no i can't.
i don't even know what your voice sounded like anymore.
i hadn't heard it for years even before you slit your thin white wrists.

i wonder what it's like, wherever you are now.
if you're alone, if you're happier, if you regret it.
i wonder if, if you could go back, you'd put that blade down and walk away from it,
face whatever problems you had, and live, live because you knew where you'd be if you weren't alive.
i wish you would.
i wish you were still here.
i trusted you, probably more than i should have, considering you never spoke a word.

i miss the days when we used to walk to the end of the road and sit on the roof of the abandoned car at the lake there and stay there till dark not saying anything, just sitting there, not even talking, just being content that we were alive.

someone today reminded me of you, but it wasn't you, and i almost cried because i know i'll never see you or talk to you ever again and that is the worst part about all of this.
i want to go back to the way things were. to the way i was.

i want to go back and sit on that fucking car until it corrodes and collapses and my hair starts to gray and my skin gets soft and wrinkly and i close my eyes and it's finally over and everyone i knew forgets i was ever there at all.

i'm messed up now, because of you i suppose.
probably not your fault at all, probably it's everything else.
it's probably building up underneath my skin and one day, one day i'll do the same as you did.
i'll break the skin, and i will let it out,
and nobody will ever be the same.

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i'm amazed

May. 12th, 2009 | 04:39 pm

but i'm deleting this once i've had my fill.

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i don't happen.

Feb. 19th, 2009 | 04:46 pm

i put hot sauce on everything.
i hate people. a lot.
i despise being touched.
i listen to depressing classical music in the dark while sitting there in my underwear drawing things that make no sense.
i often make no sense.
i still eat off of kiddie plates.
i'm a picky eater, and i hate junk food.
i have over 4,000 songs on my computer.
i hate holding hands. you never know where someone's fingers have been.
i used to have a dog, before i moved 3209482374 times and became an unlovable, nonsensical trainwreck. his name was barley.
now i have two cats. i talk to them. they don't talk back, which is okay with me.
i usually spend my money on books. all my money.
i have a morbid, disturbing, non sequitor, overactive imagination and i usually have issues keeping my imaginations in my head.
people usually hate me. not that i blame them.
i play guitar, piano, drums, bass, and i sing.
i'm terrified of needles and blood and heights and germs and close spaces and too many people and airplanes and elevators and cars and trains and those spinny things on playgrounds and microwaves and electric outlets and certain small furry animals and insects of all sorts and snakes and most of all i'm afraid of dissapointing people, even if i hate their guts.
i have obsessive compulsive disorder, recurrent brief depression, as well as bad vision, bad hearing, paranoia about everything, the beginnings of what i think might be either arthritis or carpal tunnel, and way too many freckles.
i have enormous eyes and i hate them.
i constantly feel the need to be chewing on something, such as gum, fingers, my ID tag, my cell phone (it's really a wonder i haven't broken it yet), or other people.
i like to dance, but only if people cant see me.
i have nightmares all the time. especially before tests.
i usually always end up slacking off in school and scraping by with B's.
i hate a lot of the people i used to be really close friends with because they were dickheads (and still are).
i don't do drugs, and i don't drink anymore. it's really a waste of time, energy, and brain cells. plus, i'm enough of a fucked up freak already, i don't need help.
i can cook really well, especially cookies even though i hate cookies.
i have a six-octave vocal range, except when i'm sick or right after i'm sick, when i have no vocal range and kind of sound like stevie nicks (god forbid).
if i don't write often, my thoughts get all stopped up inside my brain and i get really depressed and kind of mean.
i used to be a pretty violent person, but i've mellowed out. same with loudness, but i still talk a mile a minute.
i love taking pictures. of everything.
piano is my favorite instument that i can play, but cello is my favorite instrument of all.

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took the test

Feb. 8th, 2009 | 07:50 am

My Personality
Openness to Experience
You rarely get angry and it takes a lot to make you angry, however you tend to lack energy and have difficult initiating activities. You lead a leisurely and relaxed life. You would prefer to sit back and smell the roses than indulge in high energy activities. You like the security of tradition, but sometimes have a desire to bend the rules and challenge conventional thinking. You do not like to claim that you are better than other people, and generally shy from talking yourself up, however you generally see others as selfish, devious, and sometimes potentially dangerous. You have a reasonable amount of will-power and are able to follow through on tasks that you feel you need to complete. You can be distracted however and have been known to procrastinate.

Take a personality tests now or view the full Personality Report.


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sick with want

Feb. 1st, 2009 | 01:46 am
Music: "Boy With a Coin" - Iron & Wine

Ever get this feeling like nobody actually knows a damn thing?
It really isn't possible for us to know anything about anything. Even our sciences and our arithmetics are based on theorem and ideas. People judge others when they don't even know them. We don't even know ourselves. It's all just this mess of unknown, it's terrifying, it's tempting. We aren't even sure if what we can see directly in front of us exists. I don't mean to sound like a nihilist or anything, but lately I've been doubting everything.
Every word, every gesture, every emotion, every circumstance. I am doubting the very words I write.

In conclusion, there is definitely something wrong with me.

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Jan. 9th, 2009 | 03:56 pm

strangers that smile back, discourse, jam sessions, good music, imagination, floors, constant departure/perpetual arrival, collecting kaleidoscopes, metaphysics, reading, writing, anything that makes sound, trees, tree-climbing, beard envy, art, enjoying everything, alliteration, cloud-watching, people-watching, permanent vacation, circular inspiration, cartwheel attempts, cartwheel failures, failure, cooking, volunteering, birds, non-objective appreciation, painting, sunshine, spray paint, esotericism, <b>drawing,</b> candles, decent films, rain, thunder, lightning, the collective conscious, the universal subconscious, bicycles, walking, thinking, grass, weeping willows, coffee, relativity, magazines, snowball fights, Polaroids, orderly handwriting, bullshitting, painting, death, train-hopping, hitch-hiking, kissing, the humor of loss, creation/destruction (self-destruction (self-invention), especially), mandalas, newspapers, nintendo 64, playstation 2, toenail polish, fragments, letters, notebooks, obsessive compulsive-ism, animals, flowers, motorcycles, non-carbonated beverages, living simply, transcendental meditation, insomnia, lucid dreaming, hugs, flora/fauna, street-performing, computers, action figures, sculpture, elaborate costumes, cats, breaking televisions, breaking mirrors, tree huggers, unicorns, the world as we know it, skipping, html-ing, politics, procrastination, prose, protest, magicking!, shadow puppets, killing time, killing off characters in creative but slightly demeaning ways sure to shock and offend the reader, poetry, comfortable silences, sweet mustaches, mood rings, sustainability, <b>fashion, </b>theology, aquariums, going to shows, renewable energy, buttered toast as a food group, strangers/saviors, incessant fun, blogging, flying, public transportation, old-school sunglasses, being naked (…), monsters, déjà vu, picnics, sitting, reading, make believe, science, Coca Cola Classic, trampolines, environmental awareness, hide-and-go-seek, playing with strangers' dogs long enough to slightly annoy aforementioned stranger, see-saws, writers, neoplatonism, people, air that doesn’t hurt (!?), looking at pretty stuff, milk shakes, random VHS collections, imagination, sidewalk chalk, pen-pals, buy nothing day, expressionism, sketching, rad tattoos, comics, abstractism, back tickles, Friedrich Nietzsche’s incomparable genius, noise complaints, playgrounds, drawing, intelligent conversation, language, techno, the internet, parenthesis, antique stores, biodiversity, rhetorical tropes, Greenpeace, eschatology (look it up), future, wandering & wondering, early nineties dance music, Texas Hold 'em, ruckus, bare feet, ego death, nature, change, explosions, Buddha, collaging, slippers, soy, the grand outdoors, words of wisdom, filmmaking, <b>photography,</b> boots, literature 'n hammocks, writing, water parks, acting, activism, finding everything funny, making up constellations, holding hands, divergence, good reads, idealism, untrue meaning, staring at the sun, barking at the moon, making badass sandwiches, the word: badass, fireworks, skipping, pinwheels, giggle fits, swing sets, brain food, academic debate, impressionism, psychedelia, obnoxiously loud music

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Never enough.

Sep. 20th, 2008 | 07:45 pm

I love how the one person I admire above all others
the one with the complete ability to break my heart
goes and does it, doesn't care.
I love how I try to catch their eye, but all I catch
is that sickly feeling of butterflies
that aren't really butterflies at all,
but something bigger. Better.
Like lions, or tigers, or bears,
    or all of the above.
I love how people say they will change
and even though you know they really cant, or won't
you believe them, because it's what you want.
Not even what's best
or what's supposed to be
      or what you know will never happen
       good things like that
     don't happen to me.
I love how everything amounts to nothing in the end.
I love how if you look for meanings between lines
what you find is what you never wanted to know.

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