I don't own the characters, though I don't know why I'm in their head.

This is something that I thought of whilst watching the second movie. I never meant to post it, but here it is...

Love is torture.

If I didn't love the girl it wouldn't be a little more complicated than that.

Life is simple as it is. So why can't I just let go. Why can't I just be who I am, and go on with my life and live. Everything would be great, or at least a little bit less more complicated than I ever knew.

I say that to myself sometimes. Sometimes I wish I were normal. Ordinary. Like everyone else, then again not. But all I wanted was that simple truth about living my life. You know what I mean. Wake up by an alarm clock. Put on my shoes. Go to work. Might get a few stabs on a back, but that's okay. I mean, man it's life. You should deal with it. And this is what I really want to do with me. This is what I crave for. But a Spider-Man costume lying there in my closet tackles me from doing all that stuff. Everything a man could do, think, and feel with his life. And there's that girl. All I wanted is there. But if I could just let go, and get my head back to earth, I might live a life, and be with that girl. But now I'm strained. My life is ruined without her. She's there but I can't reach her. I can simply hold out my hand to her, and she would take it and hold it in hers for the rest of our lives. But there's the other side of me that takes all that away and then, which is strange, for then it wouldn't still let me be. And I wish, oh how I wish I could for once come down, and make everything up to her, and show her what love is like, but I can never do that. I can never see it myself.

Then sometimes I go back on thinking again. What if?

That's when I saw her, after I have disappointed her (and that was all because of those tingly lame phoney fooling around with cops), and I saw her kissing another guy. And I thought, why do I have to chase these bastards, each day, every now and then. What do I get from life? Everyone has their own responsibilities. Why don't I just stick to mine and get the hell on with my real life, my actual one. If only… then I could get what I want.

Yet then, the moment I go up in the air, and fly. I fly. I cannot tell you how it feels to fly. How it's like sliding around the city, over it, and people pointing up in the air at you, and call out to the hero who will save their day, and most of the times their lives.

I cannot tell you how it is to be like a soaring kite, gliding along the sky scarping hedges, being free up high and get on with whatever you'd get on with. It's simple, and others see it as extraordinary. What would a man want to wish for more than this?

I'm a hero. I save lives. I soar in the sky, and have the winds all beneath me. I'm the footer of a whole city, of the night, of all heroes. I'm spider-man. And that's who I am. Kind of great isn't it. But it's more than I can tell you. More than you'll ever see in your life. What it's like to fly.

And what pulls me away from all of this. In one moment feeling like you could own the world, when all of a sudden it hits you, and you feel like you want to go back, out of heaven. Something's pulling you back. It can't let you be. You feel this is wrong you feel everything is wrong. But what?

You have to go back down to earth. For what?

Mary-Jane.

Oh, how my winged heart's despise for her. But oh how it can't let her go.

And I'm grounded. In either ways.