Why Aren’t Celebrities Protected from Bullying?

I normally don’t give a rat’s ass about what goes on in the life of celebrities. Its their private life, why should I go out of my way to see what they’re doing if it doesn’t pertain to their career?

Yet in this past week, it feels like every time I go on Facebook, Buzzfeed has a brand new article about what the hell is going on between the famous Kardashian-West couple and the pop singer, Taylor Swift. I really don’t want to recap exactly what happened, but here is how it started and here is how far it has gotten.

Once again, I don’t care who said what or who gave permission to what because these details aren’t what matters to me. What matters to me is the amount of blatant bullying that has been allowed to happen not only to Taylor Swift but also to the other celebrities adding logs on her funeral pyre.

Its really funny, isn’t it, how these kinds of celebrities preach to stop bullying in schools and on the web, but then won’t hesitate to call someone out and blatantly bully people on the internet for the entire world to see. Just because you think you’re “spitting the truth” doesn’t mean that you have to tell Twitter this entire truth. This is why we have cell phones and private emails.

What this entire fiasco has really meant to me is that celebrities are showing that bullying on the internet is something that’s okay. Not only is the victim being bullied by someone else, this gives the entire rest of the internet to have the okay to bully that exact same person, which provides C4 to the flames of the pain that victim is already feeling.

I don’t want to hear “But she deserves it!” shit. No one deserves this amount of bullying and this is exactly what it is. Imagine if this was happening to a 16 year old and the entire internet was using snake emojis and calling her a liar. There would be articles rushing to her defense and the stand against bullying would be in full swing again. But because these parties are celebrities, suddenly our ethics about bullying are thrown out the window and social media article platforms broadcast it on jumbo-trons for the whole world to see and encourage to partake.

Celebrities are people too. They have feelings and lives and families. They are just people with significantly more money and fame than the average people, but they are human all the same. Are they ridiculous and start their petty feuds on the internet? Yes. Should they be doing this because they know it will rally thousands of people to their side? Of fucking course not. They’re adults and should know better.

Kids are seeing this and thinking its okay. Its not okay. I don’t care if you’re a twelve year old kid or Kim Kardashian, bullying is never, NEVER okay. As a victim of bullying, I can tell you that this kind of level of bullying scars you forever. No one should be subject to it, not matter what they have done or who they are.

Have a day filled with kittens, Okay?

Zoey K.

If you feel you may be subject to bullying, please inform an adult you trust immediately and take action. Otherwise, please text or call the Crisis Line in your area.

We’re Not Cookies

TW: suicide.

The title seems laughably cheesy, but I wished I had realized it earlier.

I have been through a lot of shit in my life that I wish that I had never been through and for a while it seemed like the shit never stopped coming my way. When I was taught to stop looking at life like its my constant enemy and started learning to love myself, my life really and truly started turning around. But I made a mistake in this positive growth; I thought I was nearly done. I thought all I needed was the icing on the cake (which for me is not visibly cringing and recoiling when I receive compliments) and then I’d be a better version of myself; a complete metamorphosis of the girl who is Zoey. But I was wrong.

Over the past couple of days I made a lot of stupid mistakes that I wish I could turn back time and undo. But I can’t. Instead of accepting my actions, learning from them, and moving on, I couldn’t handle what I had did and so I tried to end my life for what feels like the umpteenth time in a year. Suddenly, it was like because I had made these mistakes that completely questioned my character of who I thought I was, I didn’t trust myself anymore. All of that work I did on self love was thrown out the window. I started hating myself and this hidden element that I had discovered had stained me. I couldn’t love myself with this revealed new piece to my puzzle without edges. I didn’t think I could let anyone love me now that this part of me had been revealed to me and I didn’t trust myself with anyone. So what is the answer? Suicide of course because what normal person would think of that.

So I spent some time in a hospital recovering and then after that rather horrific experience, I saw my therapist today.

I explained to her why I didn’t feel fit to live and the situation that led me to this life-ending decision. I told her why I felt like I couldn’t love myself again and she asked a really important question:

“Who are you besides what you have been made to believe?”

I took a longer pause than I probably should have. “I’m…a singer and an art historian.”

Therapist: “There’s much more than just your majors.”

Me: “…..I’m a daughter and a sister and an aunt and a friend.”

Therapist: “And you are many, many other things. You have to realize that you cannot let one flaw that someone has revealed to you define your entire self and your entire existence. That sounds like the perfect recipe to drive yourself crazy.”

Damn those therapists…they’re smart as fuck.

So my warning to you readers, and what I’m taking from this experience, is that we people are not baked goods. We’re never done.

We’re more like trees: we keep growing and growing until one day we reach that life span or the sun explodes or something. Sometimes we get mites in our barks, but we still have the root system under which we started and just because there’s mites, doesn’t mean they’ll stay there forever and that suddenly the rest of the tree is worthless. There are still are all of those branches that took all that time to grow and are still continuing to grow.  A bird may come and eat the mites and that doesn’t mean the mite problem is suddenly solved.

I’m going to continue growing my branches and my root system and I’m going to call every bird in the forest to come get rid of these mites until I can go back to being a healthy tree again. But for now, its a work in progress.

Have a day filled with kittens, Okay?

Zoey K.

If you are experiencing suicidal thoughts, please call or text one of the following numbers and seek help immediately. There is help and you are never alone. 

Suicide Prevention Hotline:  1-800-273-8255
Crisis Text Line: Text START to 741-741 


Its a word I often have trouble associating in a positive light.

On the Fourth of July (The United States’ Independence Day), many Americans feel pride for this country. There was a lot that happened this year that made me feel less than proud about being an American, but I am grateful for many things this country has allowed me to be such as a student and marrying the person of my choosing. However, this blog post is not my own controversial thoughts about being an American. This post is about a different kind of pride.

I am, for the first time in a long time, proud of myself.

I can count on one hand the number of times I have been proud of myself this year alone and this is the second. I should really say, that I have let myself be proud. I suppose I viewed loving myself and pride in the same light; that they were negative things that only egotistical people should allow themselves to feel. But yet again, I’m wrong. So wonderfully wrong!

Yesterday, I spent a lot time with the incredible friends I have. I spent an entire day working on a puzzle of Hieronymus Bosch’s Garden of Earthly Delights (which is EXTREMELY difficult, yet absolutely hysterical. I must make another blog post about it) and cooking with a couple of wonderful people, and then I was going to spend the rest of my night with a bunch of friends, a few who I hadn’t seen in too long. My night, unfortunately, was cut short by a panic attack.

I had a feeling it was going to happen. I took a nap and when I woke up from said nap, I already had to convince myself to go out. It was the usual conversation:

Me: Unh… Fuck I think I’m too tired to do this. Maybe I’m just getting hit with a depression spell again… maybe I should stay home and play Skyrim…


Me: I don’t think I can do it though…


Me: But I feel depressed..


Me: But..but…Fullmetal Alchemist! 


Me: But what if…

MGS: Ok look. I know. This sucks and deep down inside, you’re a little scared too.I see all these thoughts racing past me. The fireworks will make you anxious or the idea of being around so many people will make you anxious or everything will make you anxious. But I know you because…well I am you. If you don’t go, you’re going to wallow and think about shit that hurts  and probably listen to twenty one pilots and you’re going to see pictures and snapchats of all of them having fun and you’re going to feel really shitty about it the whole night. Remember, you can always leave. So whaddya say, champ?


And that is how I got my sorry Dragonborne-loving ass out of bed.

My fears came true, though. Right as dinner was ending, I felt the inklings of a panic attack coming on, and despite what my therapists think, there’s no stopping the train once its in motion. Thankfully, I had a lovely dinner with my friends and they were ridiculously supportive of me leaving as well as making sure I made it to the check being placed down back in front of me.

Normally, I would go home and beat myself up over a situation like this. But for the first time in my entire life, my mind didn’t immediately go there. Instead, it was the most supportive I’ve ever had it willingly be.

I was congratulating myself on going even when I didn’t think I could mentally do it. I applauded myself for being honest with not only my friends, but to me as well. I gave myself a huge pat on the back for simply trying. I did all of that without having a single self-demeaning thought. All of these thoughts came without a negative thought preceding them and that has never happened to me before. When I stood in that steaming hot shower as my heart rate finally started to calm down, I was tired, sure, but I was proud. I was proud…after having a fucking panic attack! I know the fireworks I hear outside my window are for America, but I feel like they match the fireworks going off in my heart too.

Have a day filled with kittens, Okay?

Zoey K.