Drunk Mind Speaks Sober Thoughts Novels & Stories

“You were begging me to take you. Saying all sorts of sweet things.” I clenched my jaw. “I was insane for a moment, take my word for it at your own peril.” He tilted his head, his eyes watching me too closely. “Perhaps. But I quite liked that version of you a bit, just that it would hit differently when you are sober. The version of you so badly wanted me, makes me wonder what goes on in your mind.” I gave him a deadpan stare. “Enjoy the memory, because it’s never happening again.”

Wait, why am I embarrassed when I'm just flirting with him? I don't care what he thinks of me. I don’t want to be on earth anymore! My brain probably messes up since I have a hang-over. I slapped my cheeks to remove any thoughts of Dean taking care of me while I was drunk. Damn, I can still see his face. 'You moron, get out of my head! Leave me alone!'

When I handed the drink to her, she took one sip and immediately shrieked, “What the hell is this? Almond milk, bitch! What’s this crap you gave me?” The cup hit the counter hard. I flinched. “I—I’m sorry,” I said quickly, reaching for the cup, trying to calm her down. “I must’ve grabbed the wrong milk. I’ll—” But my voice sounded distant to my own ears, like it was coming through a wall of fog. My body was here. My hands were working. My lips were moving. But my mind? My mind was still there—in that hollow, echoing place where voices called my name like a prayer and a curse.

"Fuck him." Caleb looked at me, confused, his brow furrowing. "What? Who?" I instantly adjusted my eyes. I should hold back. Sam, please hold back, but I couldn't. I'd lost control over my mouth. "I thought I could forget, you know?.... Just move forward. But no... He's still present in my mind, like a freaking ghost." My voice cracked, the booze bringing my feelings too close to the surface. Caleb moved in his seat, unsure what to make of my drunken rants. His hand lingered over the glass in front of him, as if he considered taking another drink but decided against it.

The intoxication has taken hold, impairing his ability to articulate his thoughts clearly and maintain his balance. Jay's heart sinking as he observed Terry's state, realizing that his confession might not be fully comprehended or acknowledged at this moment. Concern mingles with his remorse as he recognizes the impact of Terry's intoxication on their interaction. "Terry," Jay says softly, his voice filling with a mix of worry and regret. Terry's gaze wavers, his eyelids heavy with the effects of alcohol. He attempts to respond, but his words slurs and stumbles, failing to form a coherent sentence. Frustration flickers across Jay's face, but he understands that pressing further in this momen

“Will be with you.” Drunk me, didn't hate or despise Daniel it wanted to be with him perhaps càuse I was freed of my body at that time, two perfect words to explain the State of my mind at that moment was drunk and extremely Stupid …I didn't try to stand as it felt like if I did I am might fall I felt drained and grumpy with the images of the day racing at the back of my mind and blurry. I could still feel that loud thud at the back of my head and rubbed my eyes to get that ache out, much a needed to get to my room it was near impossible

She took another drink. Amber fell into a pattern thereafter, for every dark thought which intruded, she chased it away with a drink. Fifty percent, drink. Tremors in both hands, drink. Falls until I end up in a wheelchair, drink. Lose my ability to reason, judgement, drink. Seventeen to twenty years, drink. Anxiety, aggression, drink. I’ll lose my ability to speak, swallow, breathe, drink. He won’t live to be an old man, drink. Doesn’t want to tie anyone to a dying man, drink. Won’t let him be alone in this, drink.

I don’t even know where the time goes, but the noise of the bar is distant, like it’s happening in someone else’s world. I drink, and drink, and drink, until I’m floating somewhere between conscious and unconscious. A voice cuts through my thoughts. “Mind if I sit here?” I look up, squinting. I’m drunk, my vision blurry, and the words slur as I respond. “Yeah, whatever.” A man slides into the seat beside me. He talks about the weather, or something about the bar being crowded. I don’t listen. I just nod. His voice is background noise to the storm in my head. I can’t focus on anything. The whiskey’s working its magic.

They kept my mind from spiraling into dark thoughts. I hated the voices in my head; they always popped up when I was sober or when I wasn’t drunk or high. They urged me to claw at something or get blood on my hands. This was the only time I didn’t have to fight with myself—getting drunk was a way to calm my nerves. “You have to get up,” someone said. I blinked, trying to force my eyes open, only to wince when the bright lights assaulted my eyes. What the fuck was going on?

I say as I exhale a thick cloud of smoke, somewhat coughing in the process. "Which part?” She says, laughing as she thinks back to my heinous behavior last night. "Listen, honestly it’s not even that bad. Nothing that I did or said meant anything because I was drunk." I explain, trying to make myself feel better about the situation. "Babe I know you don’t want to hear this but, drunk words are sober thoughts. Plus, the fact that you're still stuck on this shows that you had truth to your words because if you didn't….You wouldn't give a fuck about the things you said." She says as she takes another long drag, sending me into a state of contemplation.