#ibimstrash

“You live in a dystopian society where instead of currency, people barter emotions. Your family is starving, so you take on a man’s grief in exchange for dinner.”

 She scrunched up her nose looking at the things she had carefully collected and placed on the counter. How was she supposed to pay for it? That was the essential question, because she had to bring some food home, that much was certain. But she didn’t really have much to offer in exchange for a bit of bread and some beans. Shabby food, but as long as it kept your stomach full long enough it had to do. Eating food not only to survive, but to actually enjoy it, was a distant memory that felt more like a dream by now. Orva couldn’t keep the frustrated sigh back any longer.  “So… will that be all?” Snapped out of her spiraling thoughts the dark haired girl looked up, meeting the tired eyes of the old, gaunt shopkeeper. The silence stretched as Orva looked the man over. Doing business in this part of town has always been quite difficult. No one ever had much to give. So instead you took things on. ‘To help out’ so to say. But it never really helped, not for long anyway. For one it meant relief for a few hours, maybe days, only to go back to the same shitty situation after and for the other it meant more burdens, draining their energy out of them like blood out of a slaughtered pig. “I… yes. I’m just a bit short on…” “Everything?” The old man gave her a wry grin that the young woman did not return. There was no way she could go home empty handed and it was quite hard to read her conversational partner at the moment. Maybe because he looked as downtrodden as they all did or maybe because her head was spinning from hunger and exhaustion, who could tell? She was on edge, pressing her fingertips onto the counter to steady herself and keep her rooted in the present as she felt her thoughts going into darker places. “Well, if you have nothing do give, dear missy, there is still the option to take something of my shoulders to buy you that food.” Orva’s brows furrowed as the old man referred to her like that, making her displeasure over that title obvious, but biting her tongue so to keep herself from lashing out verbally. Once again her eyes went down to the food placed onto the counter. Three loafs of bread, three cans of beans. It would last them a while, but not long enough to change anything. “You can take more than that if you relief me of something I haven’t been able to shake off for a while.” That got her attention. And her suspicion. Still frowning, the young woman looked at the shopkeeper again. If he hadn’t been able to get rid of it for ‘a while’ it was clear as day to her that it would be nothing pleasant. But then again, did it matter? If she agreed to this it could buy her more food, more time. Her head didn’t keep up with any of this and her gut feeling didn’t help. Mainly because it told her that she was starving. And still she felt this tiny voice in the back of her head, telling her that this sounded like a terrible idea. But what was one little whisper against the cold claws of desperation? And those claws had been tearing at Orva for too long now, sinking deeper every day. Only then did she realize that she had already offered her hand to the old shopkeeper, a clear sign that she was ready to pay for her purchase. “I’m in.” When her eyes met his she couldn’t say what expression she was looking at. Was it… pity? But that wouldn’t make any sense now, would it? As the old man’s hand came to rest on her wrist she also closed her fingers firmly around his. It was nothing new that paying up for whatever she wanted to buy resulted in her feeling even more like shit than she had already done before that. When you have no emotion to give that others could want then you take on all the bothersome trash from them.  But this time it was different. There was a quiet, pained wailing that filled Orva’s ears and it took her a moment to realize that it came out of her own throat. It felt like someone had punched a hole into her chest and ripped out her heart. Her head was spinning, her breath labored. She could feel tears streaming down her face as she clutched the old man’s arm desperately for support. “What… what did I just… take…?” Her voice was a broken mess of sobs and whimpers, unable to form a proper sentence as she stared at the old man. This time she knew why he looked at her with pity in his eyes. “The grief I’ve felt for years.”

 It was one of the colder days and while Orva usually didn’t care today she had to admit that it felt good. The wind cutting through her clothes, caressing her skin and tugging at her hair was something that seemed to keep her rooted in the here and now. She felt overwhelmed, exhausted. More than once she wondered by now if she had made a mistake, but that thought never lingered long, blown away by the fact that she had just made sure her family could survive another few days, no, weeks even. Her head rested on her crossed arms, which rested on her knees. Curled up like this she sat on the stone steps in front of the building her family lived in. The crying had stopped, but she wasn’t sure that it wouldn’t return any minute. Sniffling and sobbing she had collected all the food she was allowed to take for her payment, trying to get a grip before entering the small flat she shared with her parents and her younger brother. Thankfully she had managed not to cry when she brought her purchase inside and the others had been too distracted by the massive amount of food. Not to mention that ‘looking pretty done’ was by now her trademark look, so combined with the distraction no one had questioned her. It took all her willpower to keep a straight face for those endless minutes she spent with putting the food away and sitting by dinner with her family. But as soon as she had shoved her bread down her throat, not feeling any better despite not starving anymore, she fled, excusing herself to get some fresh air. It wasn’t too unusual that she did that, since going shopping always put her in a bad place. But never before had it been that bad. It felt like this odd, giant void inside of her, sucking the last bit of energy out of her bones. While it had hit her with unexpected force when she sealed the trade, which had drawn reactions from her that she herself wasn’t used to, it seemed to have ebbed away over the hours. Or maybe ‘ebbed away’ wasn’t the right way to put it. It felt like it had simply sunken deeper into her bones, filling her whole being, taking her over. As if this feeling was now part of her, here to stay. Fuck.

Welcome to ‘ibimstrash’ or ‘TrashBin’!

This will be my fine little blog filled with stories, writing prompts, maybe little previews of my plays, a few stories concerning my table top RPGs and occasionally some voice acting bits (as soon as I get around to sticking my nose deeper into that).

The blog name is a very stupid german-english joke. ‘Bin’ in german means ‘am’, so since I’m trash and this is where I’ll dump my trash: TrashBin. The url is a joke on a very stupid teenage slang that’s going around the german region at the moment, which basically translates to ‘I’m trash’ as well. So here we are. Very clever, I know.

Now you wonder: german? Yes, I’m actually a 24 year old girl from Austria, living in London at the moment, wondering were I’m going with my life. I can give you a few words that might give you a little sneak peak on who I am (no I won’t list trash again): cats, acting, cosplay, writing, anxiety, TTRPGs, hugs, nerd, artist, wanderer. Also edgy emo teen at heart, forever and ever.