I want to try to start off the story with a little bang. Please don't let it confuse you; everything should connect at the end.

I do not own Spiderman nor do I own any of the writing styles I may use from other authors.

I'd love some tips, because I know my writing is far from perfect.

You will find more explanation on Chapter 1.

Mad? You strike me as…mad? Your assumption amuses me, but…mad? No, nervous that I am. Very nervous. But no. Not…mad. Yet I can tell what you think.
"This guy is crazy! He doesn't know what he's talking about," you must think to yourself. But that is where you misunderstand. You see, all I am is simply…nervous. That's all; nothing more nothing less. Then why, I ask, do you assume these preposterous ideas? Ideas that strike me as mad.

And, yet, I feel myself very nervous. Oh so very nervous. My hands tingle and my arms full of goose bumps. My legs shiver, and my heart; ah, my heart. Its beating is hideous. So so hideous.

Boom Boom Boom
My heart continues its beating, keeping me awake for days…for weeks…for months. I have not slept in months.
Boom Boom Boom
I feel myself withering, closer to death each dying second. I need to live, to sprout once again. But, alas, it is hopeless for me. Why me? Why was I chosen this hideous fate, this insightful destiny? Yet I knew…I knew why I suffered this nervousness. I knew why I was so nervous. Did…I mention I was nervous?

Let me tell you why I've become this way…that way you won't strike me as something as preposterous as mad!

You see, I knew. They didn't know I knew, but I did. It's true, I did know. Don't you believe me? You don't, do you? Well, I do; I did know!
But…you don't.
I saw it all. And…it was simply too much for me. Too much. It will be too much for you, as well. I should not tell you. No, I shouldn't. You will suffer. You will be tortured. You will grieve. You…will…die.

Yet there's another type of feeling in me. A feeling of anger, of impatience and disparity; a miserable feeling of…vengeance. I'm suffering, I'm going crazy, I'M MAD!
Tell me, why shouldn't YOU SUFFER THE SAME HORRIBLE TWISTED FATE AS ME?

Excuse my…my outburst. It's just that…I'm nervous. Did…I mention I was nervous? Well, I am. And it's hard to handle my outbursts. At least, I didn't have to end your life or anything because…well, I've done that before. Yes, it sounds horrendous, but you should've seen the slick, flowing homicide I committed the other day. Such a beautiful kill. But it was not my fault. I was just so nervous, and…well, you know the rest. Alas, I do not feel bad for the deaths I've caused. In fact, I'm proud of them; I did them so so well. My mother would be proud.
Yet I knew I would soon kill myself. The story had me out of control. In fact, I will make you suffer the same fate. I can't just leave it in the air anymore, you know too much. Too, too much. I will tell you the cause of my madness, the cause of my hot air.
Now you will now why I am so nervous. I did mention I was nervous, did I?
You will see that I am not mad. I am as normal as eye can see.
You will feel true torture, true pain.
And, now, ha! You will feel the nervousness that I've felt for too, too long.

Did I mention I was nervous?