Drunk Mind Speaks Sober Thoughts Novels & Stories

Here in the most underrated place among of my choices. I took a gulp every passing time until I felt the freedom out of my chest. I gulped the remaining beer. I felt the sting in my eyes and I don't know why I'm being this emotional when in fact, I'm not that emotional and stupid little girl anymore. But the moment I diverted my eyes at the plain ground, I can't help but to overthink about random things. This is my mind when I'm under the spirit of alcohol. More chaotic. More dramatic.

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.”

"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 turn and face Derek who is sprawled on the chair, looking so sure of himself even when he’s delusional on drugs. His eyes are glassy and look unfocused but his words sound so true, even when they come out slurred. “You aren’t in your right mind, do you mean that?” Without flinching and with no hesitation, he replies, “I stand by every word I said.” Even though I knew it, his confirmation surprises me still and shockingly hurts me. I let out a small laugh. “Drunken words are really sober thoughts, huh?” “What do you mean?” “Did you ever feel something for… her?” “Never, you’re the only one I want, the only one I ever wanted.” But she doesn’t feel that way, I think to myself.

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.

“You aren’t ‘dizzy,’ champ. You’re drifting. You’re like a man standing on a pier watching his own ship sail away, and you’re on the ship and the pier at the same time. You’re becoming a ghost in your own skin. You think you are strong because you can take a punch? The punch already won. It’s inside you now, eating the parts of you that know how to love, how to speak, how to be a man.” “Look down at your chest,” he says, and again I try to look, “That’s not sweat, soaking your shirt, it’s drool. You’ve been standing here, staring at a blank wall for two hours, weeping and shadowboxing nothing. You’re punch drunk, man. Your brain is swelling against your skull like something gnawing to break

Mark urges. "Like who?" I inquire. "I'm not sure, how about Max, or even me?" he suggests. "I won't blame you. You didn't do anything to cause this," I defend him. "You get what I mean. Just don't blame yourself," he insists. "Okay," I agree as we reach the truck, with Charlie not far behind. I realized that another common saying is "the drunk mind speaks the sober heart." The following morning, getting out of bed is a challenge. I feel terrible - my head throbs, my voice is hoarse, and my stomach aches.

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.

“No — I do. My heart — does, my — brain doesn't. But I love — you — and I don't know — how. You are — swallowing me whole — without even trying. I'm — absolved with thoughts of you, — my head, it — hurts badly because — I keep thinking — so much about you, it's — driving me crazy.” I sat there and just stared at her. I wanted to kiss those words off her lips, but I'm sure it would only complicate things, since she shouldn't be thinking, she shouldn't get this stressed. It was obvious she was having a hard time as I caressed the beaded sweats off her forehead, and she looked up at me, a sigh escaping her lips. “I — was told not — to think for a reason. And — now I know why, because — because

thoughts, I had stomped into the sitting room and insulted them for making noise which there wasn't, they were playing scrabble, but their thoughts was so loud, Jeremy was crushing on my brother's crush despite knowing my brother's feelings for the girl, John was so eager to beat my brother in the game, Chris was planning to steal my brother's cracker and Ethan was imagining kissing me, I had said it to their face, every single thing they were thinking, all of them at that time was calling me a psycho lunatic, and I had yelled at them for that asking them to get out, I had left my brother speechless, not because of that, but because of his friends thought, his own thought was rowdy, steal h