svolinx

[svolinx]

dear sophie,

if you’re reading this i hope you’re well. i miss u girlie and i hope life has been better to u, because if anyone deserves a good life it’s you. you’re still important to me and i’m glad i had the chance, no matter how short it was, to be friends with you. i hope you’re still out there kicking

happy 19th (i think. forgive me if im a year off).

some gifs for u:

sincerely,

emma.

[svolinx]

dear sophie,

i think you would like the album okovi by zola jesus. ash to bone makes me bawl my eyes out and exhumed blew my mind. i miss you :<

sincerely,

emma.

[svolinx]

dear sophie,

I FUCKING MISS U!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

sincerely,

emma.

[svolinx]

dear sophie,

i’m in b.c right now, only for a few weeks. i should be back home before july 8th for an important doctor’s appointment, but i just thought you should know. you’ve seen the coastal mountains, too, right? they’re really breathtaking. and the water is so cold and salty here, what the hell. have you ever swam in lake superior? it’s way more bearable than this, but the currents have a fist of iron over your lungs and it’s kind of terrifying, so i didn’t swim that much when i was there. don’t swim in lake ontario though, at least not near the toronto area—or, actually, the entire western side of the lake, because it’s full of shit and the only time it doesn’t reek is in the winter.

i might end up moving here in the near future, but i’m not sure. it’s all up in the air and the prospect of a change so big makes me feel like an orca circling around in a tiny pool, slowly going insane. i hope things have changed for you in better ways. i hope you’re not as lonely as i am right now.

sincerely,

emma.

[svolinx]

dear sophie,

i thought i’d make this blog a sort of collection instead of just a single letter. kind of like texts that don’t get sent, or are unable to be sent. i hope it doesn’t come across as obsessive where it’s sentimental. i wouldn’t feel right not making any effort to put something out there, incase you end up seeing it. the hope is that you search up your old username thinking “who the fuck took this” and then come across what i’ve written.

there’s nothing special about this letter. i just miss you and i hope you’re well. i miss you so much. you mean a lot to me and i hope you know that. even if our time was limited. even if i was dumb about it sometimes. you left a space behind, a handprint.

sincerely,

emma.

[svolinx]

dear sophie,

i’m writing this letter to you at eighteen years old. the last time we spoke, i was sixteen; you left on july seventeenth, 2020. in a few short months, it will have been two years since you left, but it’s felt like much longer. each day that passes, i’m aware my last memory of you is running further and further away from me.

i can’t remember for certain if you were born in 2002 or 2003, which is what gets to me the most. i can look back at conversations for as long as the internet stands, but what year you were born in? what you look like? what your voice sounded like, on the rare occasion you sent a voice note? the passage of time is cruel. in his novel, on earth we’re briefly gorgeous, ocean vuong said, “i miss you more than i remember you.” i used to think i’d be able to pick you from a crowd, a few months after you left, that picture you sent sometime in late 2018 — where you had bangs — still fresher in my mind. but now, i’m not so sure.

my dad lives near vancouver now; he moved there for work, but i’m still in ontario. i wish (and daydream, a lot) that if i were to visit him, i’d run into you on complete chance. i hope that if that chance ever comes, my memory is clear enough to see you, and know you.

i think, all in all, we only really knew each other for about two years, give or take, but that’s how it tends to work. you meet someone, love them in whatever way you can, and then they leave all too soon, and you are left wishing you said more, that you used that precious allotted time more graciously. but i don’t hold that against you.

even if you don’t know me anymore, and, likewise, i don’t know you — i still love you. you’ll always be my friend, regardless of what happens, or how much space is between us, whether you count that space in years or kilometres. i’ll always think about you, and sometimes i’ll cry (because that’s what i do, i worry, i can’t help it). as long as i’m alive, without question, there will always be someone on this earth wishing you good, thinking of you, lighting candles for you on your birthday. even if you never make yourself known again.

i turned eighteen on february twenty-fourth. i took up oil painting last summer and all but abandoned digital art. i still do horseback riding. i got an australian cattle dog puppy in december 2020, his name is dorian, and he’s seventeen months old now. my childhood cat passed away on november fourth, 2021. my childhood dog followed suit on december first, 2021, at 3:33pm.

my favourite musicians at the moment are bts, king woman, unloved, emma ruth rundle, and chelsea wolfe, among many others. i already know you like unloved—or, you used to—they released new music for killing eve season four, by the way—and i think you would really like the latter two, especially emma ruth rundle’s song living with the black dog, and chelsea wolfe’s album hiss spun (its my favourite—scrape is my favourite song from it). i wonder what music you listen to these days. i wish i could know your equivalents of these facts: what you’ve been up to, what’s happened around you, the direction your life has been moving in, the small details.

wherever you are, whoever with, i hope you’re happier. i hope that life has been kind to you these past two years, because hope is all i can really do. you’re great at hiding your tracks, and that’s something i can admire.

i hope you think of me sometimes, too. and i hope i was able to be a good friend to you, with the time i was given. i wish i had more time to express it, but that’s what this letter is for. i hope it finds you, wherever you are. i miss you, but more than anything, i hope you’re okay. i wouldn’t mind if i never heard from you again, as long as i knew you were alive. but in the meantime, i’ll keep thinking of you.

with love,

emma.