A letter to John Green

Dear John Green,

Let me begin by telling you that I am not sick or dying, to my knowledge, in the near future.

I’m writing to you because I’ve just finished reading The Fault In Our Stars and I really wanted to thank you for making me see Amsterdam as something it never was to me: a magical place.

I’m a 24 year old girl (I’d say woman, but that’d imply that I’m mature, and in many ways, I’m not) from the Netherlands. To me, Amsterdam has always the embodiment of incredible inconvenience.

I was born twelve weeks premature and have had a physical disability all my life, that has caused me to be in a wheelchair whenever I go out, since I was sixteen. Amsterdam is one of those places where you don’t really get around as easily as you’d like in a wheelchair.

I remember going there when I was fourteen, before my wheelchair times. It just so happened that I had twisted my knee in this really bad way and was in a wheelchair at the time. I can’t really remember why I was there, but it was with my dad, and we were walking (or being pushed, in my case) along when we came upon a bridge across the canal where we were wanting to cross. Unfortunately, there was this big truck blocking the bridge, and only people that could squeeze past on foot could cross. Not very doable in a chair. So we found ourselves having to take a detour, through the Red Light district. That is the memory I have of Amsterdam, despite having gone there many times since: walking through the red light district with my dad, watching as scantily clad women seduced him from behind their sad little windows.

So thank you, for writing a little magic about Amsterdam. I know it’s there, I just need other people to tell me, possibly in brilliant writing, like you have, to believe it.

I kind of envy Hazel, in a way, which is the most selfish thing I could possibly ever say. But I’m here, with a disability that causes me to not be able to properly use the left side of my body. It was never a progressive thing, and yet it has progressed drastically over the last two years, to the point where I can’t walk barefoot anymore without feeling like I might fall and the point where I have to hold on to someone to walk on any surface that isn’t flat. That said, it won’t cause me to die. Unless I fall and break my neck, but let’s stay optimistic. I’m jealous, because Hazel, in a way, found a way to be ok with it.

I’m not ok with it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be, and that makes me feel very small. But I guess that’s ok.

Also, thank you, for writing something that broke my heart. It’s been a while. And for letting Hazel find Augustus and Augustus find Hazel. It’s beautiful.

Please keep writing such wonderful things.

Best wishes,

Maartje van Hoorn

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