Okay, so I wanted to talk a bit about something I’ve seen firsthand. This whole ‘Pisces Venus woman’ thing. Before I really knew anyone well with this placement, I’d just heard the usual stuff, you know? Super dreamy, wears rose-colored glasses, maybe a bit lost in space, cries easily. Sounded kinda… high maintenance, if I’m being honest.
Then I got to know my friend, let’s call her Maya. We worked together for a couple of years, then stayed friends after. Didn’t even know about the astrology stuff at first, just knew her as Maya. She was incredibly sweet, almost overwhelmingly so. Always offering help, always listening. But yeah, sometimes she seemed a bit… slippery? Like, making plans could feel like nailing jello to a wall sometimes. Not in a mean way, she’d never stand you up exactly, but things would just kinda… morph. Dates would shift, times would get vague. I remember thinking she was maybe a bit disorganized or just wasn’t that committed.
It took a while, and seeing her go through some real life stuff, for me to get it. There was this one time another friend of ours was going through a really nasty breakup. Like, messy, crying-on-the-floor messy. Most of us offered support, you know, called, texted, brought over food. Maya? She kinda disappeared for a bit. I initially thought, ‘Wow, typical, bails when things get tough’.
What Actually Happened
Turns out, she hadn’t bailed at all. She’d quietly arranged for the friend to stay at her cousin’s empty apartment for a week to get some space. She didn’t make a big deal about it, didn’t announce it in the group chat. She just saw the need, felt it really deeply apparently, and sorted it out behind the scenes. She wasn’t avoiding the drama; she was just handling the emotional fallout in this really practical, yet deeply intuitive way. She told me later she just felt overwhelmed by the friend’s pain and needed to do something concrete rather than just talk.
Another thing was her creativity. She wasn’t someone who shouted about her art or anything. But I went to her place once and saw these incredible, moody watercolor paintings tucked away in a corner. She just painted when she felt things strongly, poured it out onto paper instead of talking sometimes. It wasn’t for an audience; it was just her way of processing the world.
So, yeah, my perspective did a total 180. That ‘vagueness’ or ‘flakiness’ I saw early on? I started seeing it differently. It wasn’t about being unreliable. It felt more like she operated on a different frequency, tuned into emotional undercurrents that I just wasn’t picking up. Her boundaries seemed porous because she felt others’ feelings so strongly. Her love and care weren’t shown through rigid schedules or loud declarations, but through this quiet, deep empathy and these acts of service that often went unnoticed because she didn’t advertise them.
Looking back, it taught me a few things:
- Textbook definitions are just starting points. People are way more complex.
- What looks like weakness (being ‘too sensitive’ or ‘lost’) can actually be a different kind of strength – like deep compassion or intuitive insight.
- Sometimes the quietest people are doing the most.
It wasn’t always easy being friends with someone who navigated the world so differently, especially when I was younger and more rigid myself. But watching Maya just be herself, with all that quiet depth and sometimes confusing emotional flow, definitely made me rethink judging people based on surface appearances or simple labels. She wasn’t just ‘Pisces Venus’; she was Maya, figuring stuff out her own way. And that way had its own kind of magic, even if it wasn’t always straightforward.
