Sandra

Myspace Contact Tables When I was two my parents pretended they had abandoned me by hiding behind the curtains in the hallway to our small apartment, which made me develop a less manageable separation-anxiety. When I was three I didn’t like mirrors because some moron in the mirror did exactly the same thing as I did. There was no way of escaping unless you stepped away from the annoying thing. When I was four I was speaking a very interesting mix of english, swedish and visaya and had a very hard time saying the swedish word ”kuckeliku” which is equivalent for the english word ”cock-a-doodle-doo”. When I was six I was all crazy about Aristocats and terrorized everyone in my presence by singing songs from it. I also wanted to be a white angora cat named Duchess. When I was nine I dragged home a mentally disturbed cat that bit puppies in their legs. He became my best friend for thirteen years. When I was twelve I had to wear glasses and looked even more stupid than I did before. When I was fourteen and at the peak of my geekiness I fell in love with a red-haired boy who didn’t even know I existed. When I was fourteen and a little more I fell down under a tree and hit my head on a rock and was disconnected from the world for a couple of minutes. When I was fifteen I wore leopard-patterned clothes and got severely teased for that. When I was fifteen and a little more I skipped the glasses, got lenses and danced at the spring prom wearing a hideous tiger/leopard/cheetah patterned dress with a two-year old younger guy who was a head taller than me. All the other guys that I had had my eyes on, who never looked at my direction the last two semesters, finally laid their eyes on me for all the wrong reasons. When I was almost sixteen I saw the movie city of Angels and wished that someone could be that unconditionally in love with me. Who preferably wasn’t an angel. When I was sixteen I didn’t listen so attentively at the physics classes and tried instead to figure out how everything was linked together . When I was almost seventeen I got my first kiss outside my door by a boy who had the most beautiful clear blue eyes I had ever seen. When I was eighteen he broke up with me the day before graduation-day and I threw my shoes at him at a party. His best friend pulled out my shoes from the bushes and told me that he wasn’t even worth the soles on them. Maybe a heel or two. When I was nineteen and a little more I sew eleven 19th century gowns to a musical and pretended to be good at something I had never done before. When I was nineteen and a little more I managed to seduce guys by wearing almost nothing and having open wounds painted on half of my body, squirming in a bed with bedbugs that gave me allergic reactions. When I was twenty I had left the green-eyed boy because he had cheated on me, for the one with a storm in his eyes whom I only thought wanted to sleep with me. I almost died choking on lasagna when he referred to me as his girlfriend on the phone to his mom. When I was twenty-one the boy with storms in his eyes told me that he loved me but wasn’t in love with me. I started to develop a cynical view on love and let it accompany my separation-anxiety. When I was twenty-one and a little more my grandmother died and I realized I wasn’t afraid of death. When I was twenty-one and a little more I had stopped crying over the storm eyed boy and started to travel. When I was nearly twenty-two I earned so much money I was convinced I could do anything. When I was twenty-two I took my big suitcase “el mariachi” and flew to Barcelona to find my true self. When I was twenty-two and a month the world gave me unreplacable memories and helped me finding my core in the city which summer never seemed to end. When I was twenty-two and two months I fell in love with the boy with the guitar-case and experienced all the cheesy romantic sequences that only happen in Hollywood movies but when we got back home again the movie ended. When I was twenty-two and two months I fell in love with an Aquarian whom I sat with at a balcony in Poble Nou and talked about love, life and our future dreams. I never knew then how much that moment would mean to me. I didn’t know by then that I actually loved him. When I was twenty-two and some more and had returned home again I fell into some kind of depression. When I was twenty-two and some more I, for some mysterious reason, dated five Aquarians in a row and during the nights I cried over the boy with the moon on his chin who by then had disconnected me. When I was twenty-two and some more I thought my mother was going to die after a doctor told me she was if she didn’t have surgery which was, knowing my mother, a very difficult thing to force her to do. When I was twenty-three I met the Lion whom I knew I couldn’t share a throne with. When I was twenty-three and some more my beloved cat died and I thought I was going to die with him. When I was twenty-four I took "el mariachi" and moved to the Lions hometown but we were fighting so much we had to go separate ways although I still loved him deeply though denying it. When I was twenty-four I fled to London with "el mariachi" to protect myself from my myself, recharge and re-experience an adventure such as the one I had experienced in the city which summer never seemed to end. When I was twenty-four and some more I thought I was in love with the english flamencoguitar-player but in fact I was denying whatever true feelings I possessed. When I was twenty-four I made a fool out of myself in front of Jude Law and had wonderful evenings at Odd Bins with my momentary friends. Life was pounding in my chest again. When I was twenty-five the Englishman followed me to my hometown. When I was twenty-five and some more I got fired from a job which I loved but had co-workers I truly despised so life saved me from further miseries. When I was twenty-five and some more a pirate ship sailed into the harbor and laid anchor. I met the hobbit with sadness in his eyes that showed me how I really could and should feel. When I was twenty-five and some more I told the englishman I didn't love him anymore and he disappeared with "el mariachi" that I had brought with me to all my adventures. When I was twenty-six I moved in together with the two best people in the world. When I was twenty-six and some more we found a cockatiel on the street who became the fourth member of our little family. Now I'm twenty-six and some more not knowing where I'm going in my life, having head-twisting conversations with my room-mates, still disliking mirrors, and even more now after seeing the horror-movie "Mirrors", and looking forward to all the new adventures life might bring me in the future.