Pisces

You felt the room change before anyone spoke. Not the temperature — the frequency. Something shifted in the space between two people and you registered it the way other people register sound. You've been like this your entire life — receiving signals that weren't addressed to you but arrived in your body anyway.

From the outside it reads as dreaminess. From the inside it's closer to double vision — a world where what's imagined sits alongside what's real, and the line between them keeps shifting. Most people can't tell where one ends and the other begins. Neither can you, sometimes. That's both the gift and the cost.

Where Pisces loses the edges

The empathy is real. But so is the disappearing. You absorb so much from other people that you sometimes lose track of which feelings are yours. You walk into a room fine and walk out carrying someone else's grief without knowing when it happened. The overcorrection isn't withdrawal — it's dissolution. You retreat into dreams, music, long baths, the pull inward — not because you're lazy, but because it's the only way you know to dissolve what doesn't belong to you. And when you surface, nobody asks where you went or what you left behind in there.

Pisces explains the openness — the merging, the feeling everything, the cost of living without hard edges. What it can't explain is why some weeks you move through all of that with grace, and other weeks the same sensitivity pulls you under before lunch. The permeability hasn't changed. But something beneath it has — and your sign has no language for what that something is.