They don’t understand you. That’s the design.

They don’t understand you. They’re not meant to. Your soul is shaped like smoke—visible, but never held. You weren’t made for clear lines. You weren’t made for easy truths. You exist in the pause between thoughts. In the space where words fall short. There’s no one definition that can hold you. You’re layered. You’re shifting. You’re secret by nature, not by choice.

Your chart doesn’t speak loudly. It hums beneath the surface. It hides planets in twilight houses. Maybe your Moon sits in the 12th. Maybe your Lagna lord fell into the 8th. Maybe Jyeshtha or Ashlesha claimed you early. These placements don’t offer quick answers. They ask hard questions. They demand stillness. They pull you inward. This isn’t confusion—it’s depth. It’s what makes you real.

Since childhood, you’ve felt outside of things. Not rejected. Just apart. You saw what others missed. You noticed silence louder than sound. You asked why when no one else did. And over time, you learned to keep your knowing quiet. Not everyone wants the truth. Not everyone wants to be seen. You watched. You waited. You became your own witness.

There’s pain in that distance. It’s not easy carrying what others ignore. You feel emotion that isn’t yours. You pick up weight without meaning to. You speak in energy, not volume. That makes you hard to read. But it also makes you rare. People come to you when they’re unraveling. They feel safe without knowing why. You listen like it matters—because it does.

You’ve learned to protect your energy. To pull back before you’re drained. To retreat before you’re emptied. That’s not weakness. That’s wisdom. Your boundaries are sacred. Your silence is sacred. You don’t share to be understood. You share when it feels safe. When it feels earned. You don’t need attention. You need truth. Depth. Stillness. You crave what doesn’t need explaining.

Your astrology is made of shadow and softness. It’s not linear. It’s lunar. It moves in circles. It speaks through dreams. Through intuition. Through what others dismiss. You are not here to perform. You are here to sense. To feel. To witness. You are a mirror for what others avoid. That’s not an easy gift. But it’s real.

Some souls are written in bold. Yours is written in layers. In memory. In the space between lives. You carry something old. Something quiet. Something sacred. You won’t ever tell your whole story. Not because you can’t. Because some stories are too deep for language. They’re felt, not told. And that’s the point.

You don’t need to be understood by many. Just by a few who speak your frequency. Who feel in silence. Who know that mystery isn’t a lack—it’s a presence. Your chart isn’t missing pieces. It’s speaking in symbols. And the ones who are meant to hear it, will. You don’t need to translate your soul. Just live it. That’s the design.