Dearest Diary,

I feel as though this may be the last place I have to express these sudden and inescapable fears that the Lord Our God is, for some reason, upset with me.  For what exactly I have yet to discern, however, as of this afternoon there have been several instances when I have felt his mighty fist hovering above me like a cataclysm and it only seems inevitable that some tremendous form of calamity is waiting to befall me for my sins, just what sins in particular remains to be seen.  (1)  Upon my arrival home from my studies, I took notice of my cat, Kookie, who had become afflicted with a significant limp and subsequently was unable to join me atop my bed for our daily custom of pit pats and snuggles.  It appears to me, in this case, unavoidable that he will soon perish of some dreadful ailment and leave me quite lonely and grief-stricken.  (2)  After reflecting for some time, quite sorrowfully I might add, on the unfortunate election the Good Lord had prescribed to my feline companion, I suddenly became aware of the fact that I had not eaten since I took coffee earlier in the day.  But as I came into my kitchen, it became clear that someone, or perhaps my dying friend Mr. Kookie, had consumed all of my Banquet Chicken Pot Pies, and after several assurances from my roommates that they, in fact, were not responsible for the disappearance of my pot pies, I drew the only conclusion that I am allowed under the Good Laws of Jesus and the Bible; God had taken my pot pies.  This celestial theft is, of course, most concerning.  (3)  After attempting to abate my hunger with stale bread and ketchup, a most unsatisfactory combination, I turned to the television for a brief and suitable distraction before I began my home studies.  But my attempts at powering on the cable box or the television proved frustrating and futile, and a further inspection of the remote revealed an absence of two AA batteries.  Again my roommates offered me multiple denials and Kookie hardly seemed capable, in his degrading health, to paw open the back of the remote.  So ultimately I was left with the same conclusion as with the pot pies…but why?  What am I doing that is deserving of God, Our Lord and Savior’s wrath?  I’m afraid this whole subject has sufficiently startled me to the point of my heart beating at a frantic and, dare I say, painful rate.  My only hope now is that this pain develops into something more fatal, and takes me from this sordid existence before the Lord feels it necessary to strike me with his vengeance and drop me deeper into the fissure of the fallen.

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