You don't know what to do anymore so you sit and cry on the kitchen floor. You think about the teabag still sitting in the cup of hot water but you pass it off easily. Strong tea doesn't really matter, but you know to you it does. Still you leave it. You let the first tear come, welling up inside your eyes as you head leans into your hands. You swear. You say the words you never say, the words that only ever come to your lips when you're in this state. You never swear, but it slips off now. You feel like it needs to, like the harshness of the word fuck somehow soothes you. You like hard words, when they slip off your tongue they finish easily unlike words that end softly. But the f starts it quick and the uck just follows from it, all in one hard, fast movement. Fuck. It's easy and you like that. You like that something's easy. But just as you think that it rolls through your head that you shouldn't be swearing, is it a sin? You're not sure but you feel like it should be, not should, would be. You ask God for forgiveness. You want to do something to relieve the mess in your head, the jumbling thoughts constantly slipping through. You pray, and again and again you think the word forgive. You don't like the word amen. It's too soft and smooth, unlike fuck. You stunt over it, and can't get it through your head easily. You think it again; forgive me amen, forgive me amen, forgive me amen, until amen no longer comes out like a stutter. You don't like forgive me either, just the for though, the give ends it easily. Sometimes you start again before you reach the amen. You no longer know what to do. You wipe a tear from your eye, and decide that your tea really has been sitting too long. You get up, take the tea bag out and pour in the milk. You decide it's still perfect when you take a sip and leave the room, your thoughts too twisting to wonder when you'll next be crying on the floor.