Drunk Thoughts Are Sober Novels & Stories

Bryce sounds like he had invited Lucas in his office, and he's now trying his best to snatch him right in front of me to get him on his side. “Let's just see, Mr. Tryst. Maybe one day.” Lucas is playing it cool as if he hadn't drank an insane amount of alcohol that had probably got into his mind in this very exact moment. He acts like he can switch from any state of mind that he has right now. But is being drunk considered as a state of mind? Lucas turns to me with his playing-it-cool act. “And by the way, this is—” “There's no need to introduce her to me. I know her. We both know each other.”

That medieval looking water bottle. I internally cringed so hard that my organs ate themselves when he placed it near my mouth. I reluctantly nodded and drank. Please, no weird thoughts. Your brain is already filled with self-deprecating thoughts right now. You don’t need weird ones. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t— ‘It’s like sucking on—’ SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP! I finished—

Wait, why am I embarrassed when I'm just flirting with him? I don't care what he thinks of me. I don’t want to be on earth anymore! My brain probably messes up since I have a hang-over. I slapped my cheeks to remove any thoughts of Dean taking care of me while I was drunk. Damn, I can still see his face. 'You moron, get out of my head! Leave me alone!'

I keep trying to resist but it's like I'm being pulled back in, three steps closer with every step I take away. I can feel the urge to drown my thoughts in alcohol creeping in. I need to drink until I can't remember a damn thing. My feet practically drag me towards the bar, my mind already numbing with the promise of temporary relief.

I chose a bar and went in, ordering a lot of liquor and starting to drink like crazy. Cup after cup, but I felt more and more sober. Why am I getting more sober? Why can’t I just collapse on the floor? I want to get drunk right now so I won’t have to think. That way, I wouldn’t feel hurt or sad. Some people came over. Some men tried to invite me to drink, and others tried to talk to me, but I wasn’t interested in any of them. It’s not Valentino; I don’t care about him at all. So why do I have to deal with these guys?

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 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 had been through hours of this shit already, and it wasn’t letting up. My fingers curled into my palm. If I was still feeling like this, then self-control was a fucking myth. I wasn’t drunk. Not yet. But I was buzzing, and the slow burn of alcohol in my veins made it easier to breathe. Easier to not think about Tobias and the problem he was dragging home. Easier to not think about the fact that I hadn’t fucked in weeks because every damn time I tried, all I could think about was— Knock. Knock.

Dealing with Kendra was the last thing on my mind amidst the whirlwind of emotions raging inside me. The alcohol continued to flow, numbing my senses and blurring my vision. I felt the world around me grow hazy, spinning relentlessly as I succumbed to its intoxicating embrace. Every part of me was consumed by the alcohol's grip, rendering me unable to move, trapped in a drunken stupor. "Ryle?" Kendra's voice pierced through the fog of my mind, pulling me back from the brink of unconsciousness. But my thoughts remained fixated on Isobel, her betrayal looming large in my thoughts.

I wanted a blunt instrument to knock my brain offline. I sat in a dark corner booth and drank. One glass. Two glasses. Three. I kept drinking and drinking, tilting the cheap burning alcohol back until the sharp, irritating edges of my thoughts began to blur. I drank until I finally felt numb, until the calculation in my brain slowed down to a dull, manageable static. By the time I stumbled back out to the Jeep, the sky had completely changed. It was late afternoon, turning into evening—the actual time when normal people started drinking, not when they finished.