Drunk Thoughts Are Sober Feelings Novels & Stories

I sat at the bar, waiting for him, the drinks numbing the feelings, the thoughts, everything, not realising how much I was drinking. I felt tired and worn out. I had been sitting here for hours now; I feel sick, the booze making itself known in my stomach. Lowering my head, I rested it on my arm, eyes closing slowly as I swept into a dream. It made no sense, chaos everywhere, a gun, people screaming – I can't even escape in my dreams!

My limbs felt disconnected, my thoughts scattered. The room spun in a dizzying dance, colors and faces melding into a vivid, intoxicating blur. My head was lighter than a balloon on a string, thoughts frayed at the edges like an old tapestry left too long in the sun. I wasn’t quite sure how I got to feeling this way. My steps faltered as I tried to navigate through the sea of bodies at the engagement party, my hand brushing against the cool surface of a glass that I couldn’t recall having more than a sip from. My sister, Avery, had handed it to me with a sly smile that should’ve been my first warning. But it was too late now; the damage was done.

I’m back here, finally, but it doesn’t feel like coming home. Home’s supposed to feel safe and solid under your feet. This just feels like another layover in a life that’s been one long damn layover. Three and a half weeks of being more drunk than sober will do that to you. My liver’s probably throwing white flags by now, but at least it shuts my head up for a while.

“What the hell are you talking about?” With the glass in hand, he attempts to take a few steps forward, but his balance falters, causing him to swirl clumsily on his way. His unsteady gait becomes apparent to those around him, drawing attention to his inebriated state. The alcohol's influence intensifies, heightening the disorientation Jay experiences. His vision blurs, making it difficult for him to focus on his surroundings. The once lavish bar loses its luster, appearing distorted and hazy through the lens of his intoxicated perception.

Now, my day is completely, and utterly ruined. So naturally, my feet brought me to the town pub. Alcohol is the only thing that help me take my mind off of things. After three hours of nonstop drinking, my mind is no longer burdened with the image of Mary Sue and her boyfriend. All I can feel is my face starting to numb, my visions starting to blurry, and all my problems going away. It's like all I want to do is party.

I felt furious and betrayed, thoughts swirling in a tumultuous mess. And the more I drank, the clearer the memories became—the laughter we shared, the plans for the future, all crumbled in an instant. I believed in Fred, but now I was unsure if I ever really knew him at all. By the time my vision swam and everything around me turned hazy, I realized I was trapped in a spiraling cage of my emotions. I wanted to scream, to fight against the injustice of it all, but the alcohol kept weighing me down, forcing me into a numb state.

The wine made our heads heavy, the food made our stomachs warm, and the fire in the room made the cold night fade, but slowly everything blurred together, and I didn’t know how I had come to this point, how I had ended up sitting here, sharing wine with him, my hands shaking, my stomach full but my mind screaming. The tension between us had shifted, but it hadn’t disappeared. I looked at him and realized… he was drunk, too, his sharp eyes softening, his posture loose, his voice slower, calmer, and for a moment I saw not the terrifying Lord Draven who could crush me with a word, but a man, vulnerable and human in a way I didn’t expect. I was tipsy, too but he had most of the wine. And I knew

"...people like me." 'People like me? He thought, what was that supposed to mean?' Is the saying true that the words of a drunk man words are his sober thoughts? If he isn't speaking gibberish that is. He stared at her lips about to do something stupid, something she would probably regret when she was sober. "I hope you won't remember this when you wake." Then he kissed her. ___

I am so frustrated that I’m having trouble functioning; I think my lungs have forgotten how to breathe, my legs how to walk, and my head how to think. I feel euphoric and drugged, my hind so hazy that it can’t comprehend what’s happening. I feel as if the world is moving in a supersonic version while I’m trailing behind at a snail’s pace.

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.