Noodle's Real Name

For so long I've lived this name. "Noodle" is so back and forth, so ever-fluctuating and inconsistent. To be this is to never lay a root down, never have to focus for too long on one particular thing. You know what I mean man?

I've waffled my whole life, I think. "Waffle,"... perhaps that's my real name, someplace down deep where my parents couldn't find it. Nah, Noodle has served me fine so far. Chicks dig the weirdness of it and it suits a tormented artist like me. It sounds innocent enough to make my mama proud and it makes a cool signature when I'm not being entirely sincere about my decision.

But I got a real name, ya know? I have a name my mom and dad gave me when I came screaming and wiggling into this God-forsaken planet. I have the real "me" under this bland moniker that I try to believe is spicier than it is.
I gotta a 'me' in here someplace, you dig?

That me plays the guitar and hits the keyboard too. That me indulges just as much as the other does and regrets it all the more. That me has the same history and the same disappointments only this guy thinks on them a hell of a lot more and puts a lot more feeling behind it.

That's why I shut him up a lot. He's a pain in the ass wimp with realness to him I can't seem to stomach yet.
He's the asshole who fell in love with her too. Who does that so quickly really? Who thinks about houses and children and vegetable gardens in the country that early on in a relationship? Seriously? Good thing I gave him a push before he got all limp on me.

But I still got that name.
He's still there.

I can't even say his name because it hurts me.
Makes my breath stop short and causes me a moment of insecurity I can't seem to understand yet.

God, who knew there could be so much wrapped up in a name? One so simple as mine?
For now, I guess my initials is all I can do.