Boujee brogues & a Belieber.

"That's not him?"

"It is!"

"It's not!"

"Of course it is."

"It looks nothing like him?"

"Yeah, he's back using drugs."

I'm on the phone to my sister. Still winter. Coldest on record. Finished talking about the important things. It's time to get down to what's really bothering me.

What the hell has happened to Justin Bieber?

As someone who doesn't scroll social media, follow celebrities. My sisters become my Facebook feeders and TikTok traffickers.

They mock me. At least 286 days behind the times. A great cause of amusement. With an unadulterated algorithm the Dalai Lama would find little to giggle at.

But I'm concerned. About Justin. Who's been spotted looking skinny in oversized clothing. Wearing Louis Vuitton slippers. That retail around $3,800.

One of the world's most recognised faces. Most downloaded artists. With walk-in-wardrobes and wealth without measure. In designer slippers.

Lost. In a world without Purpose.

On drugs. And out of control.

Allegedly.

So “they” say.

I’m genuinely worried. For this human none of us know. The incessant commentary. Severe speculation. As judge and jury nail him. To the tattooed cross he'll continue to bear.

It got me thinking. How we perceive pretty people more punitively. Treat leaders heading up the hierarchy more harshly. Rate excessive fame against higher standards of morality, conduct and conscience.

Like integrity cares about Armani. Loyalty about Lamborghinis. Virtue demanding a Vintage Chanel 3-piece suit. And red M&Ms.

Wealth is an amplifier. Not of character. Of scrutiny.

Every stumble becomes a headline. Every struggle, entertainment. Every imperfect moment, a moral failure. Where fancy footwear equals easy living. And money makes you less human. Not more valuable.

But, depression doesn't discriminate. Addiction doesn't assess album sales. Mental health doesn't differentiate between Westwood and Walmart. And unlimited resources can't buy the wealthy a way out.

From being human.

Research shows we experience "schadenfreude" - pleasure from others' misfortunes - most intensely toward the rich and successful. We hold them to impossible standards. Shaking heads at their inevitable fall.

So, the real question isn't what happened to Justin Bieber? It's why we need his pain to be a performance. Why we demand his struggles come at a cost. And how we compare his humanness against his credit card.

Carl Jung wrote: "The shoe that fits one person pinches another; there is no recipe for living that suits all cases."

Justin's slippers might fit perfectly. But the true cost is the life that comes with them. That's the shoe that pinches. The ones we refuse to let him take off.

He's just trying to make it through his Friday. Like the rest of us. Only in boujee brogues.

We get the luxury to struggle in private. With the gift of not being followed.

And an underrated anonymity.

Without the paparazzi disguised as a podiatrist.

Or slippers designed by Louis Vuitton.

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