It's a product of his parents, grandparents, school, government, friends and society. It looked like a fat poisonous spider, each trying to catch it in its web. No matter how hard he tried, none of them had anything in common with the Spider-Man in the book he loved very much. As a two-year-old boy he had to share his toys and no matter how much he shook his head, he was ignored and said 'no' was a bad thing, no social activity and the first steps to violate his personal space.
From that moment on, people ignored his limits. His parents, grandparents, teacher, and other adults - they just liked him, they were showing their affection for exactly who they wanted him to be.
It turned out that the only way to get off was my fingertips. Watching his steps had to take into account who was taking care of him this time around, who should be pleased or at least not annoyed.
He did his best, far beyond what he could.
His life would be different, not because of his self-motivation, but because his survival instinct forced him to do so and promised him that "later" everything would be different. He could then choose his friends and be liked for who he is.
It happened later, but no difference was visible in front of his door. Those who did not manipulate and harass him did not like him due to his lack of motivation and dull appearance.
It happened? The only thing he remembered was hunting. How it was pulled down by large spiders. Spider legs ... They always tried to trick him, caught him in his web, wrapped in spider threads.
He thought about it and decided that New Year's Eve was the right moment. No toe walking, no freedom other than pleasure. All he needed was a little bit of self-motivation and some support. His parents' words were supportive. The bells ringing in the tower were the last thing he heard.
