noodle's bowl

writing through feeling too much.

[noodlesharkfox]

intro

hi, im noodle. any pronouns. im in my 30s. audhd. i balance between dark and hopeful. i like heavy metal, goth, nightcore, sad songs. sharks and a bunch of other things too.

i made this place to be a refuge for the part of my heart that's soft and quiet, turning confessions and ordinary life into memory-soaked blurs.

always wanted to share my stuff online but never got the chance.

i hope you like what i have to say (: themes might be heavy sometimes. pfp by @umuuru

[noodlesharkfox]

is it weird that i just drew vore-adjacent art?

[noodlesharkfox]

promises written in sweat and tears

their tired hands typing up

a hundred calls for help

nobody knows what lies underneath

is this what it means to be man?

chanting for a purpose

in the farthest reaches

where light doesn't find a limb to grab

they play with lights and textures

colors and intentions

finding in themselves a delusion most perfect

covered with chocolate, opulent gold

someday those things belonged to their parents

and their parents before

the difference is in their crooked smiles

that disappear when one prods

all their wells dried.

i miss the 90s

and how free i felt

never swam in those lakes again

they were never real

i'm a child of the 00s

[darumakarei]

Swaying

[noodlesharkfox]

wouldn't you like

to get rid of all this pressure

[darumakarei]

Scape

[noodlesharkfox]

wanted to give myself a gift for my bday, so i drew noodle as a girl. it's who i want to be, really. (:

really proud of this one

[noodlesharkfox]

stir

people don't realize when they're being a thorn

nor when they serve as a pillow

for my unconformed emotions

invalidating a moment of reality

as soft as a cloud

i just swim around, swim around in it

a spoonful of sugar

on a bitter cup of coffee

it stirs, blending in, unnoticeable

until the first taste, a sting at the tip of the tongue

pushing memories to the back of the mind

the poems roll forward following the tempo

shorter phrases, i could teach you something

about how to pour a cup of feelings

but you won't listen, oh no you won't listen

you're so far away and the table isn't ready yet

theres' no one to visit and i've only made coffee for one

the porcelain is all dirty and the sink needs repair

utensils covered in mold,

dust hides all in gray

not a clean tablecloth to be seen

in this house of lost affections

the sounds of the spoon clinking

stirring, stirring

[ribbed9]

Beat❤️‍🔥

[naominevermind]

[macaronichewtoyz]

TRAGIC 💙 [it/they/he/she] my af icon :3

[noodlesharkfox]

drew a kitty

again

[noodlesharkfox]

i'm looking for things elsewhere

forgetting to let go into the waters

that refreshing blue tonality, soundwaves passing through my ears

itching my brain, there is something missing

a piece i can't quite find, hidden in the depths

is it myself i'm missing?

that tune comes back from time to time, it beckons me to close down

close down my outer eyes, remember, remember, it keeps saying this

remember what?

[noodlesharkfox]

call me furtune teller the way i spread those tarot cards

[noodlesharkfox]

things that scare me away from fully transitioning in no particular order of intensity

thinking i'll be chopped and never pass

if passing, having to go through so much efford to do that

fear of ruining my family

imposter syndrome

not resenting my birth name even though it is masc

thinking i'll just never figure it out

internalized systematic transphobia

internalized cultural glorification of phallic ''fertility''

might want to have children some day?

fear of all of this being just touch-starvation and bad coping (ties in with imposter syndrome)

thinking i'm too late to it all, should have done it when i was 17

thinking hormones will be less effective because of my age (ties in with not passing)

not having had the classic ''girl trapped in a boy's body'' experience

losing my erections (ties in with the phallic glorification)

walking the journey alone (irl)

having to live and work with my family

generalized violence against trans people in my country

associations between transness and sex work (nothing against sex work, just the immediate associations, ties in with violence against trans people in my country)

shame

shame

i think people that transition despite some, all or more of these points are so so brave. people don't realize how much they're an inspiration, how resilient they are, how strong, how certain. nothing is sunshine and rainbows, it all comes with so much backlash, i keep thinking if i was more marginalized from my surroundings it would be easier just because the shock of having people that you love around you having to deal with your sudden ''change'' might be too much, too intense, too dissonant. they're used to a version of me i've been hiding all my life, this masking confuses itself with the reality of being neurodivergent too so it would only add to things. it does seem i'll keep being an outcast even in my own body, having to have moments to live for but never making it a fixed reality. swimming in dreams and fantasies of a softer me. i'll have to keep balancing on this rope, never letting it swing too far. the possibility of such a grand rejection paralyzes me.

[noodlesharkfox]

why are ppl so lazy to read something that's longer than half a page ):

[noodlesharkfox]

a fictitious meeting

CW: sui mention

it had been three years since we've seen each other

I was driving to meet her

my hands glided through the steering wheel, i was thinking

if sweat would slide down and droplets would enter through the crevices of the car

wetting a long-rusted piece of failed engineering, making it stuck

right as i took a turn, causing a crash. the accident would show up on the news. days after our meeting, then she would understand. ''oh, she died''.

but she would think it's her fault. so i better wipe my hands

i stopped the car on the kind of place it's normal for people to go on dates.

as i stepped in, i noticed she was already there even though i came in early. there was no real place for us both on this planet.

her smile marked my grave, i've been dead ever since we met

a pale ghost wrapped in a person's semblance. i had misunderstood how much seeing her again would affect me.

we didn't say much, nor talk much, we never did. it was a sensory experience.

beyond pedagogical usefulness, none of this was useful. nothing i've done with her was useful.

we exchanged pleasantries, reminisced, all the time we were there we were silently reminiscing, trying not to let the other know,

hiding it all, but our eyes snitched every little lie, they were watery

hers was reddening, perhaps she was about to explode

i asked her if she was about to explode

she said yes, we laughed, ordered lattes, fell into silence

i had time to admire her but my mind couldn't figure out how she looked like

it was a mix of that day with the grey sky and the first time she smelled the ocean.

her glasses were new, i pointed that out

she responded with a warning ''don't go there''

go where? were we not going beyond small talk? did we met just to pass the time?

maybe we did, she reached out. i had the custom of not keeping contact with anybody

made it seem i didn't care. i told her i did care, even though i didn't text.

she didn't believe it. i asked her how can she not believe me after we've spend so much time seeing each other naked

that was a bit much, was i trying to scare her off?

she said she believed, i didnt believe that

youve always been unhinged, she said, have i?

have i? i looked up to the ceiling and thought of the movie Videodrome,

remember we made a promise to each other never to stop talking? slipped out of me

that was a shit promise. i didn't give her time to answer.

you've been saying shit behind my back, you've been trying to play off as superior, you've been a general asshole and still you wanted us to meet, why then? just so you can be mean to me again? you're mean, that's what you are, you're a damn narcisist, you don't even know how to be good, you're so freaking disconnected to how people actually are and you could never be with someone as sensitive as me, you know what you need? you need a door, you need an emotionally constipated door with no sense of self-respect just so you can keep fishing for compliments while making everything about you and when they start to see through your bullshit you just love-bomb them in to oblivion so they get all nice and numb just how you like it and you'll use them for your every need while denying every part of their own sensibilities, if they open their mouth about their problems you'll just shut them down and redirect, redirect, redirect, you won't have qualms in straight up saying what they're saying is wrong and shouldn't be said for your own sake, to protect your own shitty unresolved shit that you think it's so put together but it's not, you're coping, i'm coping, we're all fucking coping but you're not honest with yourself because you're a narcisist, you hear that, right? and you say people should go to a therapist while i don't fucking know what you do in yours because it's clearly not fucking working because you deny people at their hardest and while nobody expects someone to fix their shit, people should hold each other like fucking friends, and yea? friends? the way you kept saying you love your friends? bullshit, you love yourself and you surround yourself with glazers, with people that do not have an ouce of originality and you still say i'm too sad, too fucked up, too depressed, well guess what, bitch? when i driving here, i was fantasizing the sweat from my hands locking up my driver's wheel and sending me facefirst into a fucking walmart, but all i wanted was to just say I'm going to kill myself! this is what you do, you turd, you make me feel guilty of this, all i want to is to think about dying and i have to go through some fucking mental gymnastics while i could just say I'm going to kill myself! woah, stop, she held a hand up, barely able to be heard i'm going to kill myself, im going to kill myself! i. am. going. to. kill-

she grabbed my hand, i tried to pull back but couldn't. everyone around us was disturbed, i had just made several someones have a bad day.

fuck you! why the fuck did you text me? after all you've done to me?

i really shouldn't have, she said. damn right you shouldn't have.

it was a really bad idea to see you again, she carried on, i don't want to see you in my life ever again

nor do I! not after how you treated me. i bet you have shit to say about me too, don't you?

i don't care anymore, you can go rot alone in your stupid sad tragedy you call life, i'm going to be happy elsewhere.

then go. just go.

she left, tears staining her coat. the air was unbearable.

it's been a rough day, i said, turning to the nearest table. they were shocked. i payed, apologized to the staff and left before someone came up to me.

i walked outside and it was a bright morning.

.

as i wrote this i could not help but feel many things. my process of writing based on how well i can connect with my emotions. even though there are many aspects of this conversation that would seem to work out differently if it was real, i made it as it was. the place they went was populated with people that wouldn't react as to interrupt them. the nature of the person being talked to was complacent enough to let me rant. all the emotions were real. it is at once a crushing thing and part of my salvation. in many ways and with many people i've felt what i wrote. and i continue to feel. all my poems, my stories and writing is is emotions. transcribed in uncollected and blurry images, all there is to do is to dot the canvas with the tip of my brush until it has form. i have referred to this in previous poems as impressionism. in a way it is like that, it is a similar technique. only whats' painted is the imagination. i'm not good at it.

there is no thinking, no orchestration, nothing, it is just that.