A small portion of your time is still too much to ask for, I think. 

I hate my body so much that I’m happy that I’m making a difference to it. 
One month progress and I lost 10 pounds. I’m happy and not yet satisfied.

The scariest, most traumatizing feeling in a dream is murdering someone and knowing you cannot take it back. It’s indescribable. I’m not crazy enough to murder someone.

Worked out for May Muscle month and I feel slightly better about my day. That’s better than being mopey.

I’m definitely coming off as one of those misunderstanding, mopey girlfriends. 

Your schedule is “busy”, meaning 24/7. No time during school or of course, home. You told me I forgot how to text, but then again? When is the last time you kept a regular conversation over text? Or even said hello? I’ve done all the starting and ending. And I’m just disappointed that you cannot even talk to me anymore. I say good morning, I’d like one back. Unless, again, there’s no possible way. I’d just like a, how are you? I’d reply in a jiffy. I think again, I’m asking way too much of your time. I am coming off as misunderstanding, narrow-minded, selfish, bastard. Again, I’m sorry. I just want a very small portion of your time. Very little, not much. Not much that’ll it’ll take more than 10 minutes. If I could receive a text from you, I’d be more than happy. Not those one word bullshit. Not from my great friend telling me you’re online on PS3. Just a reply that seems like you had a thought of me. I’m sorry if it’s too much. I feel like I am too much for you to with hold anymore. 

I’m selfish if I want to go.
I’m still disappointing you whether I see you since I previously made the decision of going still.
Now I don’t even know. I can’t come to any conclusion.
I don’t want to disappoint anyone anymore.
It makes me disappointed in myself and question my self-worth.
I use to have confidence in my morals, but now I don’t know if I’m capable of making “good, considerate” decisions. 
What the fuck am I doing wrong? 

I hate it if I end up unsatisfied with myself or causing more disappointment to others.

Why do I care so much of making others happy?
Well, It’s you. I love you, that’s why. I want you happy. I can’t afford to make you wait and hope for my understandings any longer. 

Didn’t get the chance to tell you what’s wrong.
A text message won’t be read till hours or rarely, a minute later. 
My personal issue, I guess, shouldn’t matter and can be resolved on my own. With or without comfort.