Drunk Thoughts Are Sober Feelings Novels & Stories

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 am deeply offended." "You should be." She winked. "But you’re also drunk, which means I win." She wasn’t wrong. The room swayed slightly as I took another sip, the burn of alcohol warm and heady in my veins. Everything felt a little too bright, a little too funny, a little too... easy. It was a welcome change. For the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t drowning in my thoughts, wasn’t weighed down by the ghosts of heartbreak and betrayal.

He felt a sense of calm wash over him as he walked, enjoying their company, still lost in thought After a while, He left them to go get a drink at the bar. As He sipped his cocktail, He couldn't help but think about my parents. How did Damian find them? What were they doing? Did they ever feel guilty? Did they even remember him? Their son? He took another sip of his drink, feeling the alcohol numb his thoughts. He wandered down the beach, lost in his own thoughts. Suddenly, He stumbled and nearly fell over. He realized then that he had had too much to drink. He tried to focus on his surroundings, but everything was spinning.

“Well you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t love the August effect. So you’re welcome.” In the span of less than thirty minutes, there were several empty bottles of alcohol on the floor, the two of us drinking and snacking on the bag of chips he had opened. Both heavy drinkers, we were far from drunk even after drinking almost a dozen bottles, our eyes open, mind completely sober. He was right. I did like the August effect. Though Amber’s words were able to get me to think for a while, his mere presence alongside the triggering from the alcohol was able to finally allow me realize how those words made me feel, emotions finally stirring in me.

Clyde says while pointing. I nod. "Thanks." I slowly stand from my seat so I won't lose my balance and I just wish I won't bump to people along the way to the bathroom. I just noticed that when I'm drunk, trips to the bathroom makes me think that it's already taking too long compares to being completely sober. I feel myself walking wobbly and even though I try to walk straight, I can't. As I went inside the bathroom, I stared myself at the mirror. I pitied looking at my own reflection, I looked so broken.

I needed something to drink to stop me from overthinking. My eyes landed on the liquor cabinet near the fireplace. I stared at it for a while before walking to it. I grabbed a bottle. Opened it. And drank straight from the neck. The liquid scorched its way down my throat. And in a moment the bottle was nearly empty. I sat alone in the darkness of my room. The moonlight spilled through the windows. The alcohol dulled the edges of my thoughts. But not enough. Because even drunk… there was only two things on my mind:

The smell that had me intoxicated till yesterday appeared to me today as if it were an illness. This was the distinction between drunk and sober. In drunkenness, right and wrong do not matter, and only the enjoyment of one's heart matters. However, in the right sense, it is also necessary to consider what is right and wrong, as well as the feelings of others. I can't reverse what has happened.I'll go back and tell Harsh the whole truth as soon as I have a chance. Now, if he wishes to leave me and go on, I will respect his decision.

Sure, I’m feeling a bit more carefree, but I’m also starting to feel disconnected…like I’m floating above everything, watching from a distance. “Let’s drink to that,” Alison says, raising her glass again. I follow suit, though my hands feel clumsy as I lift my drink to my lips. We clink our glasses together once more, and I down the drink in one go, letting the bitter taste of the alcohol slide down my throat. The warmth spreads through me again, but this time, it feels heavier…almost suffocating. My thoughts are muddled, and I struggle to focus on what’s happening around me.

A man empty of life, of joy. “Not very much. Enough to feel guilty.” He clears his throat sharply before his fork clangs against his plate. “Why? Did I say something stupid? You know, you can’t trust what a person says when they’re drunk. A person’s rational thought process isn’t there.” He forgets I went to college, though he’s probably so deep in denial that he never imagined me going to parties. Like, I don’t know what it’s like to be drunk. Like, I don’t know that a person is far more honest when intoxicated than sober. Rational thoughts make you lie; when you're drunk, the truth pours out.

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.