Dear Diary,

You know it's funny. There are certain things people say to look out for and at the time you think oh I'm smart enough that I'll never do that. It's always the same warnings, don't drink and drive, don't do drugs, don't follow peer pressure. Yet people do it anyway, because when they're warned they don't think it's possible it could happen to them.

Let's just say I'm one of them.

You take a look at me and you'd probably laugh, you'd say you're Clyde Donovan, you've got good friends, a hot girlfriend, you may not have the best grades but you're the star quarterback so who gives a damn.

Well I do actually, and let me be pessimistic and negative to tell you what is wrong with each of those statements.

This first is that I am gay. I find girls completely unattractive and I only hang around with Bebe because it's what's expected of me. I mean the star quarterback can't be kissing some guy on the field that would just look wrong. I personally think she's a tramp who uses me to get her free fucking shoes, which I give her because I don't want her to leave and mess up my plan, my normalcy.

Second I'm gay for one of my best friends, a kid I've known since kindergarten. I'm talking about Token Black, and no I am not just in it for the money. He's one of the smartest kids in South Park next to Kyle and Wendy, although for some reason nobody wants to take Wendy seriously. I mean he's smart, funny, and just an awesome guy to be around. Do I have wet dreams about him? Yes, yes I do, and I am not afraid to admit that. I am afraid of what would happen if anyone were to find out the truth however.

Let's see what else can I get off my mind? Ah, well Token's African American, and I swear I have no problem with that, I'm one of those it's on the inside that counts kind of guys, and trust me that was my mantra for years of dealing with verbal abuse which I'll get to later. No, it's my parents, they're extremely racist and trust me its noticed when Token comes over which is why my house is usually never a hangout. I really hate it, it's always like I'm the outcast and the one not pulling my weight in the group since I can't host sleepovers or parties, or even a damn video game session!

Now we get on the topic of my parents. They're good people, or at least they try to be. I wish they had a few more rules though. Since I'm a football star and all it doesn't matter what little mistakes I make. Oh you got a ticket for speeding? I'll clear that up. Well Clyde you definitely smell like weed and booze, but you know what you're just a kid. Clyde what are you doing coming home at three in the morning? Screwing around those ladies eh champ?

Yeah, it sucks more than you honestly think it would I mean I love the freedom but a little tiny bit of discipline would be nice.

Then we move onto my grades do you think I like being retarded? Well I'm not retarded, but I do think I have some form of learning disability that possibly could be diagnosed if I wasn't living in god damn South Park. I fail everything; I honestly just don't understand it. I hate it because when we have group assignments or partner work I'm always left working by myself and getting a good grade anyway since I'm such a star. Token's never abandoned me though, and Craig and Tweek haven't either although I know it's only a matter of time.

Funny, mom said writing in this thing might help, maybe adults are right sometimes.


I closed the book and sighed, leaning back on my chair.

I was sitting at my desk, my pencil which had been freshly sharpened when I began writing now was a dull little stub. Good thing too, I couldn't think of anything else to write right now and my hand was cramping furiously. I began massaging it with my free hand and looked at my alarm clock. I groaned at the time, four o'clock.

I'd spent most of the night doing Calculus work which I didn't fucking understand and probably never will, then on to Physics and English and writing in that stupid journal. I groaned and grabbed my head which had started pounding as soon I began my work. I felt like absolute shit right now and I didn't think I could even get up from my chair. I tried to, only to experience a dizzy spell so bad that I was forced to sit back in. I looked longingly at my comfortable and fluffy bed just a couple of steps away. Damn it! I sighed and spun in my chair, crossing my arms on my desk so I could use them as a pillow.

I sighed and thought while I lay there, patiently waiting for sleep to overtake me.


I was sick, very sick, but I hadn't realized it yet.

I'm sensitive, extremely sensitive. One wrong word, a gentle bump, a light tap can send me into a hysterical fit that was only outshone by Tweek's screaming.

So I absolutely hated it when people called me fat. The truth was I was slightly overweight. I wasn't all muscle like my parents believed or like my friends told me. There was always that huge layer of skin that jiggled when I walked, yes it does jiggle. I was teased by kids throughout the years, not as bad as Cartman but still.

The thing was I never told anyone about it, figuring if I could take it, maybe I could be stronger. Maybe I wouldn't be seen as such a big baby if I just held it all in. Well, I did cry hysterically when I got into the bathroom and locked myself safely in a stall that wouldn't tell my secret.

Yet I learned alter that even my own weak attempts at stopping them and ignoring them only egged them on.

Then one day Tweek saw everything, he watched as the group of freshman, yes freshman left a senior nearly bawling in the hallway. I remember looking at the floor, the tears coming a bit early, when I felt a warm hand on my shoulder. I'd turned only to see Craig, a look of sympathy on his usually emotionless face.

"Why the fuck didn't you tell us?"

After that it stopped, but the kids words had made me see the truth.

That's why I went to Cartman. You see, over the summer he'd actually lost a lot of weight leaving him thinner than anyone possibly could have imagined. He now looked at what I guess would've been my weight at the time. However he was nastier than ever, snapping at anyone and everyone, do one day when I noticed him going to the bathroom I followed him, wondering if I could ask him about his magical secret, only to open the door to him vomiting in the toilet in front of me.

"Close the door gay wad!" he yelled, and with that I slammed the door shut. He finished and wiped his mouth, before turning to see me. At first he looked nervous.

"That's how you did it?" I asked, and he smirked.

"Does Clahd want to drop a few pounds?" I swallowed nervously.

"But you're not."

"Skin and bones?" he asked and I nodded. "It's because of all my weight." My eyes widened at that, he never admitted her was fat to anyone. "It'll take em longer to realize." he said with a confident smirk.

"Can I try?" I didn't recognize my own voice and he nodded, stepping away to give me use of the toilet. I kneeled in front of it like I'd seen him doing. "Now what?"

"Stick your finger in your throat, as far as it can go."

I jammed my finger, only to yelp as I scratched something and in seconds vomit shot out of my mouth, I was happy some reflex had yanked my arm back or else I'd have vomit all over my sleeve. It was the first time I'd purged, and when I was finished, there was a wave of something that came over me, something I couldn't describe. I was actually smiling as I wiped off the mess with a piece of toilet paper and looked up at Cartman. His response was a smile and a hand offering to pull me up.

"Welcome to the beautiful world of the thin people Clahd."


We all think we're too smart to do certain things.

I thought I was, I thought I could never develop an eating disorder. It never crossed my mind that I could starve myself of any nutrients that my body so desperately craved, that I would go to the bathroom after lunch every day after eating enough food to satisfy my friends that I would just vomit it back up, that I would abuse the weight room just to burn off anything that wasn't vomited, that I would stop eating breakfast and dinner and barely eat lunch. I never thought I'd be one of those sickly thin people who don't understand how thin they actually are.

Yet here I am.

My name is Clyde Donovan, and for two weeks I have suffered from Anorexia Nervosa.