Why am I still trying?

Sometime in the last two weeks or so I asked Johann when we could take him out to eat, and he was very. . . Cautious? Careful? I don't know what word to use--it felt like he went out of his way to assure me that he really did want to go out with us, but work was so crazy that he was too tired to enjoy it--that he wanted to do it when he wasn't exhausted, stressed, frustrated, etc. so he could have fun with us. Silly sweetheart, I with he'd stop being so nice. I wish I'd stop liking him. I'm so tired of all this--not being good enough, not doing enough, and this sense of overwhelming duty. . . I don't know a better word to use. I have all these things to do, but I'm not doing them, and I don't really have a reason why. It's so silly stupid! Just like I'm back at school, doing anything to not have to work on my paper or whatever. Usually a paper--research or analysis or somesuch that I'd already written part of and now had absolutely nothing else to say about it and at least three more pages to fill. . .