Are Drunk Words Sober Thoughts Novels & Stories

"Remember, there's a thin line between finding solace and drowning in despair." Ignoring his cautionary words, I took another sip, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spread through my veins. Glass after glass, I continued to drink, seeking oblivion in the haze of intoxication. The world around me became blurred, the voices of other people blending into an indistinguishable murmur. Hours passed, and the effects of the alcohol intensified. My inhibitions dissolved, and I found myself engaging in conversations with strangers, laughter mingling with slurred words. The Sinema Club had transformed into a realm of reckless abandonment, a place where troubles were temporarily forgotten.

I didn't drink and drive. I may have gotten sloshed while at home, but I never had the thought of driving. I thank God my sober subconscious made an appearance last night. I drank, and that's still a big no no, but at least I don't have to worry about hurting someone or going into work since it's Christmas break. "Thank you, Delilah." She eyes me curiously but nods her head in return.

That medieval looking water bottle. I internally cringed so hard that my organs ate themselves when he placed it near my mouth. I reluctantly nodded and drank. Please, no weird thoughts. Your brain is already filled with self-deprecating thoughts right now. You don’t need weird ones. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t— ‘It’s like sucking on—’ SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! I finished—

I teased him. “Is it lame to love a person?” I stopped dead and the L word. He actually dropped the bomb, and I was sure he had no idea he even knew it. “Maybe you should wait until you are sober, you don’t know what you’re saying right now,” I said and tried to push him further onto the bed. “I have never felt more sober in my life,” he said while heavily slurring his words. I scoffed. “Yeah, you sure sound like it. Come on, it’s time for bed.”

We have all done it when we have been drunk. “OK, well, I will make it quick,” he laughed, “Will you move in with me when I get home?” “Gabe, maybe this is something we should talk about when you are sober,” “Nope! I mean it! I want it! I am ready for us to live together! Do you not want to?” he responded, disappointment in his voice. “I do want to, but there is no point in talking about when you are drunk, love, you will not remember,”

"She faints at the sight of blood. How could she possibly hold a scalpel?" As if to spite me, he deliberately drank a lot more alcohol. Marcus had never been much of a drinker, and after finishing an entire bottle, there was no way he could perform surgery tomorrow. Just then, my aunt, who was caring for my mom, called. "Claire, something terrible has happened. Your mother has gotten worse..." "Aunt Jane, wait for me. I'm coming right over..." Aunt Jane's crying made everything go blank. Marcus, despite all the alcohol, went pale too. He reached for me but lost his balance, crashing into Hannah instead. Their lips collided. "Mark, you... Claire, please don't get the wrong idea. We didn't mea

I had been through hours of this shit already, and it wasn’t letting up. My fingers curled into my palm. If I was still feeling like this, then self-control was a fucking myth. I wasn’t drunk. Not yet. But I was buzzing, and the slow burn of alcohol in my veins made it easier to breathe. Easier to not think about Tobias and the problem he was dragging home. Easier to not think about the fact that I hadn’t fucked in weeks because every damn time I tried, all I could think about was— Knock. Knock.

1108 word(s) Published 18 TANNER Walking down the streets where the motel is located I found myself thinking about my past. What had really happened and what I did not know happened. Shit!! For fuck sake I need to get myself a drink and get drunk. At least so I can stop being sober. My mind was telling me to just make a move and go to the nearest bar. But, then I thought, what about the little sick baby? Her mother is fighting for strength?