beastboy's perspective
Death is something I hunger for.
I am barely surviving my own psychological hell, that makes the appetite only grow. To tell the truth, it wasn't the substance of death that I craved so deeply. It was the fact that, if I could achieve death, my afflictions would cease.
I refused to acknowledge the the permanence of death, as I simply wanted an instant end to a suffering that seemed to stretch on for eternity.
This feeling I was persevering was so agonizing, it caused me insensitivity. As if, I was under a scorching summer sun, in the dead of an arctic winter.
The clutter of emotions were like a jacket that was etched onto my skin, one that was impossible to shrug off—no matter how much I tried.
Sitting at the kitchen island, I put together a chickpea salad sandwich for lunch. I assembled chickpeas, onions, peppers, vegan mayonnaise, garlic powder, salt, and leafy greens all between two slices of bread.
Cyborg and Starfire were watching a series on the couch, Raven was reading on the floor near the sofa, and Robin was washing the dishes.
I bit into my meal.
My tongue had a hard time picking up the flavor of the food. My teeth worked in my mouth like rusted, iron chains. A twinge twisted inside of my stomach, making the food less appetizing.
I mentally attempted to switch on my tastebuds and loosen my jaw, but my body was working against me. I lowered the sandwich to the plate, whilst my lips spread into a straight line.
"Beastboy." Robin started.
"Yeah?"
He stated, his back facing me, "This is like the third time this week I'm doing your share of dishes."
"Okay, and?"
"The problem is, is that everyone has a job to do in the Tower. If that isn't done, someone's always caught doing double chores, which always happens to be me."
"Sounds like a "you" problem."
"If that's the case, it should be your problem, too."
"Dude... what?" my eyebrows creased in confusion.
"If I have a problem with something, it should also be your concern. We're a team."
I scoffed, crossing my arms over my chest.
"I fail to understand how you always have time to play video games and play around, but never have the time to take responsibility."
"For your information, I haven't had time for neither of those lately."
Robin commented, "Beastboy, all you do is slouch around and leave messes everywhere. You've gotta be more productive."
A hot sheet of red settled under my cheeks. My adrenaline took a rapid increase, along with a tingling sensation in my nerves.
"Dude, you're starting to piss me off. I'm tired of you bossing me around and treating me like I'm some little kid!"
"Me telling you to keep up with your chores is bossing you around? Got it."
"No, you insulting me and calling me "unproductive" is."
"I did not call you "unproductive", I said: "be more productive". Don't put words in my mouth."
"Robin, that's basically the same thing as calling me "unproductive". You telling me to be more productive is damn well saying that I'm not."
"Jeez, all you do is whine."
Something inside of me snapped, then I stood up.
"Cut the crap, Robin." I angrily pounded my fist on the surface.
My leader faced me with an irritated expression.
"You aren't complainin', you're freakin' perfect. You're having kittens over dishes, yet you're still getting the job done right now, aren't you? Man, I wish I could wash dishes. I wish with every atom in me that I could get up, take the rag from you, and wash every dish clean. But I can't. You're worrying about plates and cups being clean, while it takes me about an hour to get out of bed each day. I exert almost all of my energy just to wake up." my mouth moved before my brain could process.
The jumble of emotions suppressed within me began to erupt out of me; like lava would spout from a volcano.
I heard the show on the TV pause, amplifying my exasperated vent.
"Oh, and it gets better. I don't even wanna wake up. Every morning I try to force myself back to sleep, because I dread every single day. I don't look forward to waking up past noon everyday, skipping meals, forcing myself to eat, not having the interest to do anything fun, constantly isolating myself, throwing a few punches at bad guys, only to go back to bed and have a sleepless night. I'm so tone-deaf and blind to life right now, you have no clue!"
Robin stared back at me, empty of words and expression.
A stinging pain formed in my throat, and I didn't bother to swallow it down.
My fingers trembled as I held the edge of the surface, "Only if it were that simple as you make it sound."
The air in my lungs snagged, making it harder to breathe. My lip quivered, followed by hot tears falling down my face.
"Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it! I hate this! I hate this so much..." I screamed, shaking the kitchen island.
"Friend Beastboy..."
"B, easy."
I was so inflamed, I hardly noticed I was now surrounded by my friends. I felt their eyes stare on me, heavy in concern. I figured they were all so frightened by my outburst, that they had no idea what to say.
My chest rattled, causing air to leave my body through violent hisses. My blood vessels tightened, an ache throbbed in my abdomen, and my vision became clouded. The world around me was a chaos of sounds and colors that clashed together in the most distressing way possible.
I felt like I was the only person in the middle of a war. I felt as if, gunshots were piercing my body, I was taking assaults from all sides, and no one was there to help me.
"Listen, I had no idea any of this was going on. I'm sorry." Robin managed to say.
"Y-You wouldn't know any of this was going on if I kept acting like I was a functional human being," I cried, "Every time you guys ask if I'm okay, I lie. I lie to you, and to myself. When I say "I'm fine", I feel m-myself die a little more inside."