Look, I’m not some crystal-gazing guru or anything. I’m usually just here tracking how I manage to screw up my coding projects or why my garden always ends up looking like a swamp. But a few months back, I got dragged into something that forced me to look at the stars, specifically at poor, complicated February Pisces folks. And man, I tracked the hell out of it. This whole practice started because I got absolutely burned.
I was working on this side hustle—some simple inventory tracking software—with a guy I’ve known since high school, let’s call him Leo. Leo was born February 29th. Yeah, a leap-year baby, which already tells you he operates on a different cycle than the rest of us schmucks. We hammered out a deal, shook hands, and I figured we were set for a fast, clean six-month run. I handled the back-end grunt work; he was supposed to be the “visionary,” the guy who could sweet-talk investors and design the user experience.
Things immediately went sideways. I’d spend two weeks coding like a fiend, getting the database structure perfectly smooth. I’d send him a progress report, asking for the UI mockups he promised a week ago, and he’d just… vanish. Not ghosting me for an hour. Vanishing. Two days, sometimes three. He’d resurface only to say he couldn’t work because the clouds looked “too heavy” or because he felt a “cosmic block.”
I pushed and pushed, trying to use logic. I tried to schedule meetings, but every time I put a hard time down, he’d be late, or he’d show up with this intense, glassy-eyed look, completely changing the scope of what we were building. We were doing simple inventory, and suddenly he was talking about adding a feature to track the emotional state of every product on the shelf. I was losing my mind, my time, and a whole lot of money waiting on him.
How I Started The Deep Dive
I got so mad, I wasn’t just mad at him; I was mad at myself for trusting him. I couldn’t understand the pattern. It wasn’t malicious; it was just… chaotic. I hit the forums, not the tech forums, the weird esoteric ones. I typed in his birthday and “why is he like this?” That’s when I saw the word: Pisces. February Pisces, specifically, the one right before March, usually tagged as the most stereotypical, often called “The Dreamer” or sometimes “The Martyr.”
I realized I couldn’t fix his coding contributions, but I could diagnose the damn pattern. My new project became tracking Leo’s specific behaviors against the common February Pisces literature. I wasn’t a believer. I was an angry researcher trying to create a behavior model to predict my escape route from this disaster. I started a spreadsheet (yes, a spreadsheet for astrology) to log his actions.
The Observation Process: My Simple Checklist
I spent about two months methodically logging and comparing what happened in our interactions versus what the internet claimed about a late-February fish. Here is my rough-and-ready list of facts, all directly from watching him operate. I swear I saw these traits manifesting right in front of me:
- They Absorb Everything: If I came to a meeting stressed, he didn’t ask what was wrong; he’d immediately become stressed. He’d start fidgeting, rubbing his temples, or even crying because I looked sad. He literally siphons your energy.
- Boundaries Are Just Suggestions: He was always late, but then he’d call me at 3 AM to discuss a “brilliant new color palette” idea. The world runs on his internal clock, and he assumes yours does too. I had to brutally enforce a “text only after 9 PM” rule.
- The Escape Artist: As soon as any task got boring—like actually integrating the APIs I built, the hard part—he’d find a creative reason to flee. Headaches, a sudden urge to bake bread, needing to drive to the beach to “re-center the business’s chi.” Anything to dodge the grind.
- Emotion Over Logic: We’d have a logical, business-driven argument about feature priority. He wouldn’t counter with data; he’d counter with a feeling. “The users won’t feel good if we don’t include that.” It’s not about what works; it’s about the vague, collective emotional vibe.
- The Unending Empathy: He’s an emotional sponge, which is also his superpower. He could pull the true needs out of the most difficult, abstract user requirement. The problem is he cared too much about everyone, including the imaginary users we didn’t even have yet. This kept us from ever finalizing anything.
What I Finally Figured Out
I eventually ripped my work away from Leo, paid him a small amount to dissolve the partnership, and finished the simple CRUD application myself. It was messy, it was stressful, and it cost me months of headaches. But the practice paid off, not because I now believe in horoscopes, but because I have a damn playbook.
What I learned is this: February Pisces folks, or at least the one I studied, aren’t trying to mess with you. They genuinely operate under a different set of rules. They’re constantly swimming in this chaotic, emotional ocean, and the dry, concrete world of deadlines and data sheets is literal poison to them. My technical setup was about creating solid structure; his personality was about dissolving structure.
It’s a bizarre contradiction. They’re profoundly creative and empathetic, but their practical output is an absolute mess, just like that Bilibili back-end the other guy was talking about. It’s a beautifully designed catastrophe. Now, when I spot that dreamy, distant look, or if someone tells me they’re an end-of-February baby, I know exactly what I’m dealing with, and I make sure to build my firewall up front, keeping my practical work far away from their cosmic tides.
That was my real-world practice. Now back to debugging why my Python script ate my weekend.
