Ketu in the 1st = no one really gets you.

Ketu in the 1st house feels distant. You are here, yet not. People speak, but you fade. They look, but don’t see. You appear solid, then vanish. There’s presence, but always space. You move like old memory. Like someone not fully formed. You speak softly, or not. Your eyes seem far away. It’s not performance, it’s truth. Your energy doesn’t stay grounded. It rises, dissolves, drifts without effort. You feel like a ghost sometimes.

Identity slips through your hands often. You try on roles, discard them. Nothing sticks. Nothing feels permanent enough. You chase labels, then lose interest. You aren’t who you were. You aren’t who they expect. You keep shedding past versions. You keep floating forward, alone. Even your name feels foreign. You forget your face, sometimes. The mirror feels like fiction.

People try to define you. They guess, assume, or project. You don’t correct them anymore. It’s easier to stay silent. They see what they want. You watch it quietly happen. They love ideas, not you. And that’s always been true. You give less each time. Less of what’s real inside. You’ve learned not to explain.

Love feels both near and far. You reach, then you vanish. You crave touch, yet drift. You hold, then release suddenly. It’s not fear—it’s disconnection. You don’t stay for long. You want them to see. But you also disappear again. The ache lives without name. The longing stays without direction. You want something wordless, deep.

There’s always sadness beneath silence. Not loud. Not sharp. Just there. It hums behind your smile. A kind of old grief. It comes from somewhere else. Maybe not this life. Maybe something before this. You carry it softly, always. Like fog on your skin. Like rain that never ends.

Ketu removes the false layers. You build, then life erases. You try, and it dissolves. It’s not punishment, but purpose. You are learning surrender now. Learning how to release identity. The self becomes vapor, gently. You begin to accept it. You stop trying so hard. You stop needing full form.

You don’t fit this world neatly. And you never really did. There’s peace in that too. You are not broken here. You’re just built for more. More silence. More depth. Less noise. Less structure. You are here to feel. Here to float, not anchor. Here to vanish, but remain.

Even if no one understands you, you are still seen somehow. Not by people—but something deeper. Something wordless. Like space understands you fully. Like time speaks your name quietly. Like spirit holds you still. You are not empty—just vast. You are not lost—just unheld. You are learning to stay. Even when part dissolves again.