They try decoding you like you’re a Rahu Mahadasha

They try to read you fully. As if you’re simple, exposed, obvious. But you aren’t open like that. You’re not a name or shape. You’re a question with no end. A shift they can’t unfeel. They walk near you with caution. Your stillness speaks louder than sound. They search for answers in you. But you don’t offer them freely. You are presence, not explanation. You are felt, not understood.

Rahu is illusion wrapped in change. You move like that—quiet disruption. Not here to break things loudly. Just enough to shift ground. You touch people without a word. They leave with parts unsettled. Not from harm, but recognition. You show what lies beneath stillness. Most aren’t ready for that truth. They want comfort, not reflection. You hold both—without softening either.

You feel more than you speak. You notice what others avoid. Silence isn’t absence, it’s weight. You stay where others escape. You ask what no one dares. And answer with your own becoming. You’re drawn to what’s hidden deep. Especially when it hurts to see. Pain doesn’t scare you—it calls. You follow it into yourself fully. That’s where you meet meaning.

They call you chaos, too much. But you’re not breaking—just honest. You don’t dilute to belong. You don’t shrink to stay safe. They think you’re storm, you’re noise. But you’re clarity after collapse. You don’t fit—by design. You challenge without asking permission. Your presence asks for realness, nothing less. Not everyone can carry that mirror.

You don’t move in straight lines. You circle back, always deeper. Each time, more truth appears. You’ve shed countless versions of self. You don’t cling to the past. You follow where the soul points. It’s not escape—it’s return, refined. You aren’t lost, just evolving again. The unknown feels like home now.

Even when you’re gone, you linger. People remember how you made them feel’. Not for comfort, but awakening. You don’t force growth—it follows you. When it’s time, you leave quietly. No closure. Just necessary space for clarity. You don’t explain yourself to stay. Let them misunderstand in peace.

They still try to decode you. As if you’re a message, waiting. But you are a shift instead. A force meant to awaken. Rahu energy never comes gently. It removes what no longer fits. You aren’t a phase—they’ll see. You’re the turning they didn’t expect. A quiet undoing, deeply needed.