Drunk Poetry Is Hilarious and Sad

Is alcohol poetry juice?

I am a creative and introverted person. However, I have an extroverted side and it shines when there is some magical juice in my organism. I am not proud of it, but life seems so much easier when I’m drunk.

Social anxiety? Healed. Lack of confidence? Gone. Awkwardness in movement? Eradicated. Shyness? Never even heard of it.

I am a different person when I’m drunk and I love her. But. It’s not a game, it’s dangerous, so I meet her rarely.

The last time we met was over a week ago. Somehow it was a different experience. A lot of time has passed since our previous encounter, and she came back changed. I mean, she’s a poet now?

I’m glad I don’t have to pretend I am sober Because everyone is asleep I’m so ashamed that my maths teacher saw me Water drops in the sink They’re all alone Don’t let me sink I want to go Please let me go

This is what I found in my notes app today. I guess it’s a poem by Nina Drunkart

What lead to this situation

After a short trip to Italy, I came home to my small hometown. I brought Italian wine for my old friend as a gift. We met to go for a walk, I gave her the wine as a souvenir. But she had different plans.

While I was gone, my friend had a hurtful experience. She met the love of her life and he had to leave to another country. This meant their love story ended before it could start.

Naturally, my friend wanted to tell me everything. She also wanted to drown her sorrows and brought a wine bottle herself. That was a mistake.

Let’s paint the scene

We were in our hometown visiting our parents. We wouldn’t have any privacy in our homes, so naturally, we decided to have our little therapy session on a bench in a completely public place.

Was it a good idea? Well, we were craving privacy, so we settled in a public place. Probably not the best idea. I should mention that drinking in public is illegal where I live. So not the best idea, really.

However, we settled. We started our session. She talked and talked and talked and talked. And I listened. And we drank. Her story was sad, so we opened another bottle.

We’d drink out of reusable coffee cups, so it wasn’t too obvious. We’d store our wine bottles under the bench we were sitting on, so we didn’t fool anyone. Yet somehow it was enough to fool the police slowly passing by. Lucky us.

When the shame hit

We were enjoying ourselves. A bit too much maybe. It was a rare occasion, so we didn’t mind it. But then…

I saw our old high school maths teacher coming towards us. An immediate wave of shame hit me. Her best students are drunk in a public place. I wanted to disappear, but my only choice was to try to pretend as sober as possible.

I tried my best but my friend didn’t. She stood up, hugged our teacher, and kept telling her how she’s missed her. It was a moment. An awkward, and shameful, and awful moment. Funny though.

Later that evening

The rest of the bottle was a bit of a blur. It was getting dark, we talked about our friendship, laughed about fooling the police, and meeting our teacher. We confessed love to each other. Just the usual stuff.

We walked to our separation place wobbly and then walked home. It was only 10 pm.

I was glad to see there wasn’t a speck of light coming through the windows of my parents’ house. It meant they were already asleep.

I didn’t rush to go inside. I sat on the stairs and watched the sky, admired the stars partly covered up by fluffy clouds. I took a picture of a tree in the dark. I had too many thoughts on my mind.

I don’t know for how long I was rethinking every thought I have ever had. I suddenly felt an urge to sleep. I went inside, made my bed in the dark, and was about to drift off.

My hands suddenly picked up the phone and typed what has traveled from my brain to my fingertips.

I’m glad I don’t have to pretend I am sober Because everyone is asleep I’m so ashamed that my maths teacher saw me Water drops in the sink They’re all alone Don’t let me sink I want to go Please let me go

And I went to sleep.

Maybe it was a conversation between drunk me and sober me. Maybe I saw water drops in a kitchen sink and they seemed lonely. Maybe drunk me felt lonely at that time. It’s hard to understand drunk thoughts with a sober brain.

I hope drunk me is okay. I hope to see more poetry from her when we meet again. It’s not going to be soon. See you in a couple of months, probably.