Peter Parker: The Gen Z Chronicles

silence

Peter was a naturally anxious person. Always worrying about a million different things at once. Constantly checking and rechecking his bag making sure he didn't forget anything, patting down his pockets making sure nothing fell out, and scanning a room a few more times than nessicary before leaving the house making sure that nothing was left behind were all normal parts of his day. He constantly replayed conversations in his head hours after they happened making sure he hadn't said anything wrong or offensive. Focusing on anything that could be misconstrued into meaning something rude and trying to convince himself it was fine.

This all built and built inside of him until one day it all came crumbling down. The careful facade so realistic that he didn't even realize existed fell. It revealed itself.

From there now that he saw and was aware of the anxiety it started growing. What were occasional checks and replays daily occurrences. What used to give him a quick spike of adrenaline to give him a boost became a trap. Energy to burn without anything to use it for.

Even with Spiderman it was too much. If something happened that triggered his anxiety his body produced too much adrenaline. It went to all the wrong places too. The adrenaline would create a cage around his heart. Squeezing his chest lightly making sure he could feel every beat of it. Speeding it up. Pulling him down. The adrenaline called his blood to his chest. It left his hands and toes cold.

It was worse when he was home. He would be shaking, with his palms sweaty. He was cold. Walking was too hard. Talking was too hard. He was alone.

Fear took over. He was constantly afraid. Afraid of what the world saw him as. Afraid of his value and worth as a person.

He changed. When he looked in the mirror he saw a different person. He saw someone who had cracks in their walls, but that were still intact. He lived day by day. Small problems popping up, but not enough to justify him getting help.

The tips of his fingers were gently scarred from him constantly picking at the skin. He didn't really understand why he did it. Just that it brought him comfort. I'm high-stress situations it helped sooth him. It out his focus on that rather than whatever emotional turmoil he was going through. The soft sting of deeper slivers and wider patched helped ground him. Gently flexing his fingers when the wound was still raw and healing helped him to focus more. Picking off the loose ends of skin made him feel better. More well kept. He knew it was bad. But it didn't seem that harmful so he kept going. His attempts to quit before hadn't had much success anyways.

He was nothing but a shadow sometimes. Living his life as people needed him. Existing trying to make the people around him smile.

Sometimes he would be in a call with Ned and MJ and the adrenaline would start. The adrenaline would seal away his words. It closed his throat on the way out. He hated it. He hated the silence. He had things he wanted to say. He had things he wanted to share. He didn't want Ned and MJ to look at him different. He didn't want to ruin their calls. He was tired of it all.

People didn't need to deal with him. He was fine. He didn't need to be helped.

He wanted it so badly. He wanted someone to hold his hand and tell him it was gonna be ok. He wanted to be held and loved.

But it was fine.

He couldn't ask that from his friends. It was too much.

He was fine.

They were all things he could deal with on his own. And if he couldn't all he and to do was wait.

He was so deep in his web of lies that he couldn't tell what he believed anymore.

He didn't know if he was actually fine and just making it a bigger deal than it was or if it actually was a big. He didn't know if it was worth bothering anyone over.

But it was fine.

He was fine.

If he told himself that enough than one day it would be true.