Drunk Thoughts Are Sober Feelings Novels & Stories

I had no choice but to get myself involved in excessive drinking to clear my head of thoughts I shouldn't be harboring. Yet no matter how much I filled myself with it, even to the brim, I couldn't get the thoughts to wane. In my intoxicated state, I honestly don't think much about her, but once my head clears, the thought of her returns. So fierce that I can't help but surrender to it. Let's not mention how she keeps me up all night because of the pain Martha's brutal punishment inflicted on her. To this day, the appalling scene snaps something unexplainable inside of me.

I tool a small sip of the drink, and I was instantly overwhelmed by the unique tang of herbs and what I made out to be the familiar taste of gin. Hmm, not bad, I thought. I could get used to this. *** A few more clinks of glasses landing on the bar in front of me had to ring before I realized that I was truly and utterly wasted. But by the time the clock struck 2 AM, my heart was beating abnormally fast, my brain felt lighter and fuzzier than normal, and my movements were already getting clumsy and uncoordinated. I was very aware that my natural intuition and decision making skills were playing much less of a role now that I was drunk, causing me to do things that sober Ophelia would have ne

"...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. ___

Asher consumes so much of my thoughts that when I try not to think about him, I end up thinking about him even more. "Hell yeah! I can't wait to get drunk out of my senses. I just want to enjoy the lightheadedness alcohol gives me. Not having the weight of my thoughts on my head and just enjoying myself." I just sigh, already wanting the alcohol daze to take over me.

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 drank even more and more and more glasses, until I had had one-too-many drinks to think about dead Zach, my late sister, Summer and how quick my life had just fallen apart. I had never been that drunk and at the time, I felt like I was going to be throwing up till next week. But for some reason, I liked the feeling for though it was a two-edged sword, it had cleared my head of all the worrisome thoughts that flooded it. I was perturbed. I just sat there, staring into a blank space and couldn’t really comprehend anything for my head had morphed into a dark mental abyss. That was what I wanted. Mental peace. Internal calmness. Fuck you Zach.

I can feel my heart pounding in my chest, and the alcohol is making everything feel fuzzy and strange. I’m able to feel the difference in Jane’s warmth compared to what I was expecting. Her lips felt different, her body felt different, everything about her was different from what my drunk mind thought it would be. But we’re all heated up from the alcohol and the party atmosphere, and our bodies feel excited and eager.

I started drinking them one after the other. It was pretty obvious that I was going to drink myself to stupor, but thankfully for me, that was exactly what I wanted and needed at that particular time. I was tired of being sober enough to feel all the pain that I was feeling, I wanted to be so drunk, so I wouldn't be able to feel any pain. I continued drinking without thinking and a few minutes later, my heard started swirling with so many things and memories, and then...it was just blank. Nothing! I couldn't think of anything at all, it was all just pure darkness, emptiness and nothing but emptiness.

Now, in the quiet of the place I thought I’d always be safe, I can’t help but feel like a boat adrift in the middle of a tsunami. I never thought that I’d catch myself wishing that I weren’t as high as I am right now. The problem is not that I’m not sober. The problem is that while intoxicated me is typically a lot better at handling stressful situations, intoxicated me is also excellent at feeling the extent of my anxiety to an unfortunately heightened degree when induced after the fact. Is he here to kill me..?

I sang along quietly, barely a whisper…but I felt every single word. Each beat hit harder than the last. It was strange how the songs felt more real when I was like this. Like now that I was sober, stripped of distractions, I could finally understand what they meant. The stories they told. The pain they carried. They mirrored mine. Reflected the ache in my chest. Amplified it. I stayed there for hours. Drinking. Thinking. Breaking apart, all at once.