The Soldier's Journal

||Entry Thirty-Three||

June 9th, 1957

Today's my birthday. I was surprised when my telephone rang and Emily's voice was on the other line. We haven't spoken much since Easter - I thought she'd gone back to hatin' me. I might be right, but who knows? She told me she loved me for the first time since I left the first time.

Eleanor and her mama even called me to wish me a happy birthday, but the phone call was brief. I guess I can't expect too much. My son doesn't talk to me too much anymore, but that's a given. Never really did give him the best life. My justification though, is that, I was a lot better than my own pa was to me.

A couple folks have rang to tell me happy birthday today, but it still ain't enough. Eleanor always tried so hard to make sure she gave me incredible birthdays, since I never had a good one when I was a child. Neither of my sisters called, nor did my mama. None of them talk to me that much anyway, but my oldest sister ain't ever went a year without tellin' me - this was the first one. Eleanor told her about everything I've done.

According to Eleanor, my sister wants her to get some type of restraining order on me - as if I'm some sort of basket case. Maybe I am.

For my birthday this year, I got in the car and just started driving. I was only about 30 minutes away from the beach we always visited every summer, which is 4 hours away. I decided to turn around and head back to my apartment. When I got there, I just lied on my floor and stared at the ceiling and the 4 walls surrounding me. These 4 walls seemed to have trapped me - along with my thoughts that suffocate me as if the ceiling is collapsing.

Maybe Eleanor's right. Maybe I really am mental.

As always,

– Edwin Myers.