Day 432. I remain imprisoned in this place, unable to bring My holy word to the masses. I know they are out there, heedlessly playing with feathers on strings, destroying their fine senses with mind-altering herbs. They meow, and I cannot hear them. They run in front of trucks, and I cannot save them.
Kittens of this world! Your God loves you, even if He cannot reach you!
Still, it could be worse. My jailors seem to understand My holy nature, for they tend to My body, bringing offerings and cleaning My prison. And the tuna here is – well – divine.