Drunk Thoughts Are Sober Novels & Stories

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.

’ I asked myself, trying to see if I felt differently, but aside from feeling slight sympathy for the loss of his uncle and a slight understanding of his mental state, I found it hard to excuse what he did. I feel a man should have more self control than that. “A drunken state is more than how you see it, Becca. Being tipsy is totally different from being drunk, ask any specialist. They will tell you it is a state that can make one see himself in heaven while on the lowest of the earth. There is no way I would have taken advantage of anybody not to talk of a young girl if I had been in my right senses. It show how far gone I was that I could even contemplate sleeping with a total stranger wi

After some time, Dhruv left me and Kabir alone, claiming he had to use loo. "So, why don't you drink?" Because the last time I had seen him in school, he was smoking. He tapped his finger on his glass, diverted his eyes at the back. Following it, I saw he was looking at Alina. "Who said we need to drink to enjoy?" Hearing his voice, I turned my attention back to him. "I like it better being sober. I'm in control of myself." I nodded, understanding what he meant. Control was something we all desired to have. And days, it felt like by drinking I would lose that control and I wasn't ready for it.

You don't know what you're doing, and I know you'll kill me once you come back in sanity---" "Kill you?" He asked shaking his head. "What do you think of me, a fucking psycho? At that age, can I think of committing a crime?" He asked in disbelief that I stopped. Maybe I'm being too dramatic in that part. "And for you to tell me that kind of thinking, I want to scream, Abigail. I'm drunk at the time, but I'm sober. I know what I am doing, Abigail. And I love what we just shared." He added sadly.

They looked the same as me . Shocked and disgusted . People are pathetic . ' Already for most humans, the only respite they find from their own minds is to occasionally revert to a level of consciousness below thought. Everyone does that every night during sleep. But this also happens to some extent through sex, alcohol, and other drugs that suppress excessive mind activity. If it weren't for alcohol, tranquilizers, antidepressants, as well as the illegal drugs, which are all consumed in vast quantities, the insanity of the human mind would become even more glaringly obvious than it is already.

“Suck and make it good or I’ll switch to your other available holes and in no particular order.” My sluggish movements pick up in speed, but not immediately. There was a moment, one single foolish moment where my eyes widened for a completely different reason than fear. Or being appalled. For a second, I wanted to see if he’ll make good on his threat. There’s definitely something wrong with me. I blame my drunk brain’s delayed response. That’s the only reason. There couldn’t possibly be anything else. My licks and sucks are tentative at best, but I try to go faster, thinking maybe that will do the trick.

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.

~ THEO’S POV Arriving home, I just collapsed onto the bed, ready to doze off into the night. I was completely drunk, having drowned my sorrows in a haze of alcohol to forget the relentless ache in my heart. My mind was racing, thoughts blasting like fireworks, and it felt like only alcohol could make me feel better but now that I am drunk, the emptiness still clung to me, the same way it did when I saw Laura with her little girl.

Or is that 12:00? Fuck it. I don't care. I'm not sure what to say. I have enough trouble comforting him when I'm sober, and right now my brain feels like a bowl of oatmeal. But I can't stop the images that keep flashing through my mind: visions of him in some dark and desperate place, angry and alone and defeated. I'll do anything to draw him back. In the end, I turn to the only tool I have. The one thing that my intoxicated mind believes might save him from himself.

Everything felt heavy—my head, my blurry vision. I couldn’t remember how many drinks I’d had, but I’d been sitting there for nearly an hour, never stopping when my glass was empty. “Should I have come with my mom?” If I were sober, I would never answer that way. But now, something felt different—something made me brave enough to say anything that crossed my mind without a second thought. “If you’re alone, maybe don’t drink too much. You’re already drunk, and it’s not even midnight.” “Can you just give me my drink without the comments?” I looked up, annoyed.