Novel & Cerita Are Drunk Words Sober Thoughts

I speak out, rubbing his back He pulls out from me and then picks up the bottle of wine to sip again, I quickly draw closer to him and reach out for the wine "Let me be, I want to be sober!!!" He screams out loud and falls on the floor wiping so hard At this point, I feel so helpless; I want to help him at the same time I feel so scared to touch him. I stood for a while then bent down to the floor where he was sobbing and drinking silently I move closer to him, pull out the drink from his hands softly He looks so hapless and so sober "I don't know what to say but I am sorry"

Zachary fell silent before saying, “I’m sober.” Grandma May’s method of sobering him up could end up fatal if his waking came too late. He would have to wait to reconcile with Serenity in Heaven then. “Can your problems be solved by drowning your sorrows?” Zachary shook his head. “At least I can forget my troubles for a moment.” “Are your troubles still here now that you’re awake? Or does it feel worse? You can say anything and do anything when you’re drunk. You might think it’s a dream, but you could be acting it out in real life.”

I muttered, the words slipping out before I could stop them. The silence that followed was suffocating. Even through the alcohol haze, I could feel the weight of what I had just said. Dr. Evans' voice softened, but it didn’t lose its edge. "Theo… you’re not thinking straight. This isn’t something you decide on a drunken impulse. You need to sober up, go home, and—" "I don’t need to do anything," I snapped.

Easier said than done. How I wish I could say those fucking lines loud and clear in front of someone drunk. That will make the work easier. But it wasn't the case. Never will be. Instead, I silently breathed out those words on top of my head. Voiceless. Helpless. Most of my so-called friends often claimed that people may seem more honest in their feelings when drunk. They say that alcohol lowers inhibitions and impairs judgment, causing them to speak more freely and less filtered, which can reveal long-held thoughts or desires.

My mind can't think straight anymore. "They'll probably think I'm the murderer" I added. I felt horrible. Suddenly, I heard a chuckle. I looked around and saw Daniella. "Wow. You're hot" I slurred before everything turns to black. I groaned and slapped my forehead and run my hand over my face in frustration. Why am I so stupid? Why did I even drink? Why did I have to say stupid things? That was my first time getting drunk. I drank alcohol even I promised myself not to after frequently hearing its bad effects in TV. What if I get cancer? Stupid alcohol. Stupid peer pressure. Stupid me.

Roberto leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he peered into Liam's beer, the liquid swaying in the glass. The dim lighting of the pub played tricks on him, blurring the edges of the bottle before it snapped back into focus. "You sure you haven't had enough?" he muttered, a sarcastic edge creeping into his voice. "Are you sober?" Liam barely glanced up from his drink, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Someone has to be sober around here, make sure you lot don't end up lost in some alleyway, passed out with your pants around your ankles."

She walks away, shooting me a worried look as she passes. "Are you being serious?" I say as soon as she's out of earshot. "I can make my own decisions about what I drink." "I'm not forbidding you from anything, if that's what you're thinking," he says calmly. "By all means, have a drink if you want to. But I think it will be easier if you're sober this time around. I don't want you to use alcohol as a crutch." I'm not sure which is worse - the fact that he apparently thinks I have a drinking problem, or the fact that he actually has a point.

Chapter 93 Lucas's Pov I barely registered the blur of movement across the street, just a hazy figure that looked a lot like Sienna. But I was far too drunk to care, too drunk to even think clearly. The bar was loud, the dim lights seemed to pulse with each beat of the music, and the clinking of glasses around me felt muffled. I was buried in the weight of my own thoughts, drowning in frustration, stress, and alcohol. The thought of the wedding, my job, the dwindling state of my career, all of it spiraled around me until the drink in my hand was the only thing keeping me grounded.

I suddenly felt a little empty inside, so I walked over to the wine cabinet, thinking I would grab a bottle. The comments floated past. [Seriously? If Lyra doesn't want Nolan's baby, she can just get an abortion. There's no need to drink on purpose! Damn, she's evil.] [Right? She's pregnant, and Nolan doesn't even know yet. He doesn't have a kid later in the plot, so this one's definitely not gonna make it.]

Zee tried to joke. Jane giggled, her eyes automatically shifting towards Tristan. He had a frown on his face. “It’s alright. Don’t worry about it! I’ve handled much worse. Sometimes I think people treat us bartenders like therapists and say all sort of personal shit. Haha, I think it’s the alcohol talking.” “It’s not” Tristan huffed, somewhat composed himself. He was standing on his own, his arm gripping Zee awkwardly. “Oh, really?” Tristan nodded his head, “Drunken words sober thoughts...”