The War is on

So a few days ago, Nathan called from work. He wanted me to come down and visit him his last week in DC. His proposition was that I come down with his two other friends, who were also coming. There was no way I was going to go down there and see him. So I made up an excuse. Told him I had something planned with the family at the time he was having people over, and that I couldn't make it. The excuse was so pathetic and phoney that a 3 year old would have seen through it. But unfortunately it was all I could say at the time. Nevertheless, he persisted in a whiny voice telling me I "had to come down" and that he would get on his knees and beg if he were here. Feeling rotten, I forced myself to laugh and say that I wouldn't want to be a burden and that things would be less packed in his place without another person. He was about to say something, but couldn't find the words. I quickly said bye and hung up. I wanted to cry, and I hate myself for still caring---damnit WHY?? Why do I still care for this man? What concievable reason could I have? So while at home yesterday, I finally broke down and told my mother most everything that's been going on with him. She agrees with my reasonable part--that I need to tell this guy to go to hell. She sees him for what he is and is on my side. My reasonable side. Oh how I wish my reason was all I had... Why must I have these fickle emotions which drive me mad? Why must I still feel something for him? Why would I still give him my right lung? What the hell is wrong with me??? At any rate, I CANNOT expose my soft inner part to this man, but must keep my armor on, my daggers pointed outward, my guns loaded... For if I falter, heaven knows what sort of mess I will spiral into. He is wishy-washy with his committments, caring only for himself. I cannot live with that.