Drunk Thoughts Are Sober Novels & Stories

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.

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..?

Instead, I was thinking about how much fun I was going to have with Sabrina and the girls. Sabrina isn’t drinking tonight because of her pregnancy, and I’ve decided to follow her lead. Sure, the temptation is there. A part of me wants to drown my sorrows in a glass of something strong, to forget about everything for a few hours. But what’s the point? If I drink tonight, I’ll just wake up tomorrow with a pounding headache and the same problems waiting for me. And worse, I’ll probably end up thinking about him again. No, I’m better off staying sober. At least this way, I can enjoy the moment without the added regret. And honestly? I’m having a good time without it. For the first time in weeks,

Mу рrоgrаm is tоо іmроrtаnt. I nееd to ѕtау ѕоbеr mоrе thаn I nееd sleep, ѕо I abstain. Any mіnd-аltеrіng ѕubѕtаnсе соuld trіggеr mу desire to drink. Thаt wоuld be ѕаbоtаgе.

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.

A frown is etched on his face as he watches me fill my glass again, but I ignore his overbearing, disapproving tone. I’m not lying, though. I have a high alcohol tolerance but while I don’t get messy when I get drunk, it unfortunately has the power to cloud my mind. Revert my thoughts. Which is exactly my goal. I’ve spent two months obsessively thinking about Elizabeth, but I’m not doing that tonight. I won’t let the thoughts of her ruin this night. Not again.

“Drunk words, sober thoughts.” “What were my sober thoughts?” Zach gave me a slight glance and walked into the elevator. “Look at where you’re going. Otherwise, the next thing you bump into won’t be my chest.” I walked into the elevator and stood next to him. I promised myself that I would not drink a single drop of alcohol again in my entire life. It was either that or train my alcohol tolerance. It was extremely embarrassing to have blacked out after a bottle of beer and have Zach ridicule 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?

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.

I never asked for any of it to happen. I thought to myself, what is the point of staying sober? I felt like I was probably going to die anyway. I thought that I might as well feel something different before that happened. I wanted the pain in my head to stop. I wanted to stop thinking about Ren and Noah. I stood up slowly from the couch. I walked over to the bar. My steps felt unsteady on the floor. I reached out and grabbed a random bottle. I did not even read the label to see what it was. I lifted it to my mouth and took a big drink. The liquid burned my throat as it went down. It felt sharp and very painful. It made me cough hard. My eyes watered from the heat of the drink. But I did not