Notes to Cindy: The Archives

I thought it was fucking Spring, but here I am in this tiny tent at 2:30pm and it's colder than it was in the fall. Anya and I spent one last day together, after a night at Obie's, shopping for food, pitching the tent, and making love for what seems the last time. I spent three hours trying to get the computer to connect to the internet at Ingles, to no avail. I then took it to Anthony's, where I spent a couple of days talking to her. Even after offering to move the tent near her grandmother's, she was still convinced we should break up. So, we did. Despite all my efforts and optimism, we aren't together anymore. I told her I'd leave the computer at Anthony's for her to retrieve, and that she knew where to find me if she wanted to talk. David gave me a ride to my tent yesterday, at around 3:30pm, because it had been raining and extremely cold. Even with several layers of clothes on and a blanket that typically keeps me sweating, even in the dead of winter, I spent the next 23 hours shivering or sleeping. I'm debating whether or not to contact her again or to just let it go for a few days to see if she worries about me enough to come find me. I wish I could just see inside her mind and witness all the things she's not telling me, because I know there's more to it than this... I just don't know what it is.