I’ve been meaning to write this post for some time now. My mother told me never to defend myself. People who care already know what you’re made of.
When I met a form of love last summer it was cold. It tasted like cheap, bitter wine while you expected it to be sweet. I thought I knew better. Our egos fed one another and died overweight. I am nothing but grateful that it all went the way it did but the unrequited love was close to what I felt as big. I did things without mind. It was hard to catch the mirror for a while but I was able to save some of the balance in time. A domino game was supposedly going on with my life because I met some one new. I guarded my feelings but it was a matter of time or I had completely fallen for him. The love was like ice and fire. I never liked the fights so much but there was comfort in all the storms we faced. I felt this love rose above all of the loves I’ve had. But as all things that go up easily it came down with a skyfall I wasn’t prepared for.
First we just walked and talked. I fell in love with the way he talked without a pause. I laughed about his silly jokes and he reminded me of familiar feeling like I’ve met him before but still felt new. I fell in love with the way he made me feel comfortable around him and how I started to feel bad when we went seperate ways. It felt good seeing each other again. That’s how I knew I fell in love. He took me to pubquizzes. Not the kind of stinky pubs I went to when I was seventeen but the pubs where you can have a conversation with a person and you connect because you have the same goal. It wasn’t always peaceful between us but it was never boring.
December wasn’t a good time for us. I thought I knew heartbreak and this was like I re-lived every heartbreak all over again, all at the same time. Others told me that I gave too much. That I love too deeply. But I don’t think I had the choice to feel intense. My heart felt rotten from the inside. Fighting took its toll on me. I’ve always said that if love was going to crush me, devastate me, let it break me. But it had taken more away from me than what I wanted. Like my apetite, my motivation. It left me hopelessly wandering around. It gave me sleepless nights and haunted dreams. I had cried in the showers and bursting out publicly when I couldn’t control myself. I made my family and friends worry about me, the price I pay since I’m not good in hiding pain with the greatest broken smile I wore.
I lost hope, gained it, gave up and restored.
It’s not unusual for me to feel so deeply. Being overwhelmed is part of being an artist. I must have been seen as careless about others around as I left things unsaid. The fear was growing like a cancer and the comfort had to come from within or came far too late. I had not much but to trust on love. I wondered if it was enough but I held on tight. Calmed myself down and told myself to be brave. To be the lionhearted girl instead of the rabbithearted girl.
I had given up on giving up. But when do we stop? Stop because we’re getting so lost in it. That all of us tip off balance. Where does it end so we won’t become obsessed? I will never stop believing in love. It’s one of the things that gets me up in the morning and makes me see beauty around.
The year 2014 ended according to the calendars but to me it wasn’t over yet. With a friend of mine we sat on the rooftop of a building, really high when we saw the fireworks explode in the air. My birthday was long gone and had faded into December. It merged with Christmas and I found myself lying on the floor most of the time.
My family has never been so fortunate when it comes to love. So naturally I never allowed myself to be bothered by it. But it has hit me more than just once. I wouldn’t say there have been many but I’ve always been in the same circle over and over again. Not that I was so desperate to find love but to give love. I’ve always done things with my heart. That following my heart and therefor chasing love was my life. I came to places because I trusted on the good things I saw in people. I’ve had the craziest stories to tell just by loving. Without love I wouldn’t have taken that step to fly to the United States, found wanderlust, found a stirring passion and the fire that is called photography. Without love I haven’t met people who helped me growing. Without love I wouldn’t have known myself.
Obviously we pick up things along the way. Old loves become torches of once beloved. The scars around your heart shows that you have tried, made mistakes and grew. And acceptance when it was over shows how much you can cope with letting go. second or third love don’t mean that you have failed and nobody is able to love you. It means you are wise enough to blame it on humans not on love and to let love in again after heartbreak. It doesn’t mean you are too complicated for anyone to love. You believed in love after hurt.
In my teenage diaries you can find lists of why I damned love and to never let love in. Not knowing it was denying a part of myself. On the other page there was a story about what love is. And in the struggle between what is love and what isn’t there you have me. I’m not a love-expert to tell people how one should love. Love isn’t balanced but it should not threaten your well-being. Unfortunately there’s no guide or manual that says how-to-love-or-be-loved in seven steps. There’s no standard. I mean no one can tell you how to love and there’s no such thing as a perfect relationship. Because humans are not perfect and will never be. All you can do is give. Give love the way you would like to be loved without expecting the same in return. Above all love goes hand in hand with true understanding and compassion.
I remember writing that love is patient. Love is a compromise. I wrote a lot without realizing what it actually was, that’s how different love can be! But the very thing I know about love, I am absolutely postive about that it is two persons who truly want to be together. Cause if the love is real. You shouldn’t walk away from it.
Model: Mariette Wijnstra
Stylist: Jasmijn Tuit
MuaH: Anna Ariya
I am a liar If I’d say I remember every birthday exactly as clear as I imagine them, but I don’t remember. They’re all hazy moments in a blurr at the early stages of frost, christmas sales, family meetings and a small group of people I considered friends at the time. As a child every birthday, you’re excited. you’ve got to pick the day. It’s a candyland where you rule for a day. All you had to worry about was what’s in the wrapped up papers your parents were giving you and if your crown is extra-ordinary pretty on this special day. I do however remember the birthdays in my teens. Well most of them. The kind of birthdays that are the opposite of the American sweet sixteen birthday parties you see on MTV. With the years the group of friends became thinner until it was only me and Marissa. We’d drink wine and declare our love to each other as a token for our friendship. We’d write our wishes and let up the sky laterns. That girl is timeless.
This photoshoot was captured in the icey time of the year. This must be the bravest girl I’ve met so far because the temperature was decreasing by the time we were shooting and she still managed to look that pretty. We had sipped our teas in a nearby restaurant, warming ourselves to face the cold but after thirty minutes we had given up trying.
Model: Larissa Schuth
Stylist: Sophie Kramers
MuaH: Anna Ariya