Perez Hilton's private confession shocked me when we last spoke: ROB SHUTER reveals sad irony almost too terrible to address... but we must

The entertainment world is anxious today, as we wait for word on the condition of a man who many of us once followed and even feared.

I know him better than most.

Perez Hilton was hospitalized on Tuesday after police responded to his home to find a man 'livestreaming acts of self-harm on social media,' according to the Miami-Dade, Florida, sheriff's office.

A statement posted on Hilton's eponymous celebrity gossip website reads: 'We can confirm that Perez is receiving medical care, and our family's focus right now is on his well-being. We kindly ask that you respect Perez's privacy, as well as the privacy of his family, during this difficult time.'

Some are not inclined to offer him that grace. This is the irony at the heart of Perez's tragic story that's almost too terrible to address.

For years, Perez built an empire by turning other people's worst moments into entertainment on PerezHilton.com. Now, as he appears to be facing the darkest chapter of his life, the public is deciding whether to show him the compassion he so rarely extended to anyone else.

I think we all should. Not because Perez Hilton deserves a free pass. Not because history should be rewritten. But because compassion isn't earned by perfection and it is best demonstrated by offering to others even when it is difficult to do so.

I've known Mario Lavandeira, better known as Perez Hilton, for more than 25 years.

When VH1 hired him in 2015 to co-host The Gossip Table with me, he called before moving to New York and confessed something that genuinely surprised me: he desperately needed the job and the money.

Despite years of dominating celebrity culture, he was terrified he couldn't afford to live in Manhattan.

It was the first time I saw the man behind the character.

Perez Hilton, the loudmouth blogger, the provocateur, the self-appointed king of celebrity gossip, was someone far more fragile than the public ever imagined.

None of that excuses what came before.

Let's be honest about his legacy.

Perez didn't simply report celebrity news. He helped create an era in which humiliation became a business model. He mocked people's appearances, sexuality, addictions, mental health struggles, breakups and public breakdowns. He didn't just cover celebrities; he often delighted in tearing them apart.

Hollywood feared him because no one knew who would wake up as his next target.

I know that firsthand.

I represented Ashlee Simpson as her publicist during the height of Perez's influence and I watched the damage he inflicted on her almost daily. He mocked her relentlessly, amplified every mistake and turned vulnerable moments into public spectacle. 

It wasn't simply criticism. Too often, it felt gleefully vicious. But the internet of the early 2000s rewarded cruelty and Perez became its most successful practitioner.

Then the world changed.

Blogs gave way to social media. Celebrities stopped relying on gossip sites to speak directly to fans. TikTok replaced blogs. Instagram replaced homepages. The culture moved on but Perez's online empire didn't.

What once seemed unstoppable slowly disappeared. And without his perch, Mario's world seemed to come apart.

I've watched this happen countless times.

Reality stars lose their shows. Television hosts lose their chairs. Publicists lose their biggest clients. In entertainment, success is almost never permanent. The hardest part isn't becoming famous – it's discovering that fame has an expiration date.

Mario loved being in the spotlight. That's not an insult; it's simply true. He loved performing, being recognized and believing his voice mattered. When those opportunities faded, the loss clearly hurt.

The last time we spoke, he admitted to me that money was tight. That shocked people who assumed the fortune he made during his blogging heyday would last forever.

A changing media landscape, failed television ventures and the financial realities of raising three children as a single parent appeared to catch up with him.

He left Los Angeles for Las Vegas and eventually Miami, each move appeared to represent another attempt to rebuild.

Then came another painful lesson.

When Perez Hilton could make or break a news cycle with a headline, everyone wanted to know him. When that influence disappeared, so did many of the people who once filled his phone.

Hollywood doesn't create success stories, so much as it rents them out.

Mario spent years trying to make amends. He apologized repeatedly, admitted he'd gone too far and publicly expressed regret. Some people accepted those apologies. Many never did.

That's understandable.

Real damage was done and forgiveness cannot be demanded.

When people say he is finally getting what he gave others, I understand where that anger comes from, but I refuse to celebrate another human being's suffering.

Reports surrounding his hospitalization are heartbreaking. Whatever anyone thinks of Perez Hilton, this is no longer celebrity gossip. This is a human being in profound distress. There are three children who need their father. There is family living with unimaginable fear. There are friends praying for good news.

If we reserve compassion only for people we admire, then it isn't compassion at all. Grace should be given to people even if they've shown very little of it themselves.

Offering humanity to Perez Hilton doesn't erase the pain he caused. It doesn't rewrite history or excuse his behavior. It simply acknowledges a truth that should be obvious but too often isn't: broken people are still people.

We don't have to like Perez Hilton. We don't have to forgive him. We don't have to pretend his victims weren't real. But we also don't have to become him.

He built a career by convincing us that other people's suffering was fair game. If our response to his suffering is to cheer, then we've learned nothing.

I'd rather choose grace.

If you or someone you know needs help, please call or text the confidential 24/7 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline in the US on 988. There is also an online chat available at 988lifeline.org.