Drunk Mind Speaks Sober Thoughts Novels & Stories

“What the hell are you doing?” “Getting you to listen.” I’m not about to tell him I’ve been called stubborn a time or two, but he has a point. I sometimes get caught in my thoughts instead of seeing what’s right in front of me. So to spite the alcohol that wants to muddy my mind, I try to think clearly and be levelheaded about this. “Fine. Tell me what you want to say so badly.”

"Your femur bone. I might as well just fracture it while I'm at it because I'm so angry at you right now you should know better but instead you decided to just get everybody drunk if you want to get drunk so be it but the people who got drunk on supposed to get drunk and you're taking medication anyway why the hell were you drunk? " " I have a lot of things going on in my head and there are times when I can't speak about what's going on and drinking seems to be the only escape right now because you're busy my father's missing ,and you're coming to me like a ton of bricks and I really don't like it right now."

Hazy city lights were all I saw as I staggered out of the bar after the burn of whiskey had clung to my throat. I was drunk but not like the one who felt invincible; instead, I was more like a drowning man trapped in his own thoughts he wanted to escape from. Wading through thick fog felt like taking each step with rotten legs made heavy by alcohol and regret. There waiting for me was Eric; my driver. He said something maybe it was my name or anything bordering on help to get into the car but all this reached no ears as only the sound of my echoed thoughts filled up that drunken mind mess.

“I have a lot on my mind.” “Oooh,” I rubbed my palms together, scooching closer to him. “Do you mind sharing? I love me a sob story.” He brought his gaze to meet mine. “I think I like drunk you better than sober you.” My grin disappeared. “I'm not drunk. I'm just tipsy.” He scoffed. “Whatever you say.” “So, tell me. What is making you brood? It's not a good look on you, by the way.”

Anna gives her a confused look. “That’s the sip of someone who wants to get drunk and not think about something,” Sophia says. “You missed your vocation, you should have been a bloody psychiatrist,” Anna tells her. “No, I’m just observant. I’ve been watching you drink the past week. And I noticed that there are times when you seem to drift away into your thoughts then when you snap back and there’s alcohol nearby you drink with the intact getting drunk, like whatever you were thinking about made you feel some sort of way and you need to feel good again,”

Each following call to my Alpha echoed with a growing desperation, a repetitive cycle that left me grappling with the increasing waste of my efforts. "Ugh! I'm leaving," I declared with exasperation, the impatience within me reaching a crescendo. A well-intentioned voice interrupted my determination to leave, as the young bartender, sensing the danger of my drunken exit, attempted to inject reason into my drunk mindset. "You can't take off in this state; what if something happens to you?" he implored, his words carrying genuine concern. However, within the confines of my alcohol-clouded mind, his attempts at rationality were reduced to an indistinct stream of gibberish, further reinforcing m

He rasped peering into her eyes, drowning in the depths of her soul with that intense cold gaze. "Don't worry. I'm not this stupid when I'm sober. Let me assure you, it's the alcohol talking in my system." She muttered trying to pull free as he had loosened his hold a little so she could talk properly. She was blabbering and slurring. "This is concerning, I don't feel strong enough. What if someone tried to hurt me? I think you're right-" She was blabbering while trying to free herself from his solid hold when he spoke up.

I thanked him softly and closed the door, retreating to the solitude of the room once more. I sat on the floor, the bottle of beer in hand. With trembling fingers, I flipped open the cap and took a long, desperate gulp. The bitter liquid burned my throat, and I relished the sensation. It was something, anything, to distract me from the overwhelming weight of my promise. As I drank, my thoughts wandered in a race. The room spun around me, and I welcomed the disorientation. I was still thinking, but the thoughts were like scattered puzzle pieces, impossible to piece together into a coherent whole. That was what I wanted-to get the thoughts off my head.

I have a speech in my head of what I want to say, angry and sad at the same time, my mind turning over a chaos of words and accusations that I know I wouldn’t have the guts to say if I was sober. I walk the rest of the way as the rain turns to drizzle and I’m soaked through to my underwear. My hair is still tied up in a ponytail and acting as a tap for the water to run down my back and into my boots. I feel like my clothes are stuck to every part of me and I must look like I went swimming while fully clothed. I just have nothing else on my brain than the task I have set myself upon, too stupidly, drunkenly stubborn for my own good.

- I said, kissing his cheek and hugging his neck. - I think we'd better talk about this when you're sober. - She said from outside the bar. - But lo-ok at me, I'm sober! - I said, letting go and trying to walk in a straight line in my imagination, as I had to be held up by the man to avoid hitting the car parked on the curb. - I saw it, I saw it, now stay still! - He said, hugging me. "So beautiful! My mind was spinning, and my thoughts were totally random and meaningless, my movements were clumsy and funny."