Man, I never thought I’d be spending my weekends doing a deep dive on fish people. It all started because of this new guy on the team, Frank. Total Pisces, born right in the middle of March. He’s supposed to be this artistic, empathetic, gentle soul, right? That’s what every single online article blabbers about. Well, Frank is certainly artistic when it comes to dodging deadlines, and the only gentle thing about him is how gently he pushes all his work onto someone else.
I was pulling an all-nighter for the third time in a row, thanks to Frank’s ‘creative block,’ and I just snapped. I seriously started wondering if the whole thing was a massive, collective lie. I needed to know, for my sanity and my sleep schedule: are the Pisces traits real, or is this guy just a terrible person using his birthday as an excuse? So, I decided to treat it like any other messy project I get dumped with: I built a system to check the damn facts.
Phase 1: Compiling the “Official” Pisces Checklist
First thing I did was I didn’t just read the top ten lists. Forget that fluffy stuff. I needed the full, unedited, good and bad list. I spent a whole Tuesday night—when I should have been watching a movie, but Frank’s stress was killing me—just trawling all the obscure astrology forums and ancient texts I could find. I cross-referenced, and I compiled, everything from “imaginative” and “kind” to “escapist,” “self-pitying,” and the one that nailed Frank: “evasive.”
- The Good List: Compassionate, Artistic, Intuitive, Very Kind, Gentle.
- The Bad List (The Real Check): Escapist, Martyr complex, Easily led, Lazy, Overly sensitive, Secretive, and the big one, the one that got me started: Clueless about boundaries or money.
I printed the list out, which took five whole pages, and stuck it up on my wall, feeling like a conspiracy theorist, but whatever. The point was to make it tangible. I needed to track it. I wasn’t just investigating Frank; I needed a sample size.
Phase 2: The Practical Observation Period and My Guinea Pigs
I realized tracking Frank alone was biased, like testing your own code—you always miss the bugs. So, I grabbed four other Pisces people I knew. This was the practice part. I called them my ‘Focus Group.’
I had my old college roommate, Sarah (March 7th), who is definitely kind but also a total space cadet. I had my mom (February 24th), who is the most nurturing person ever, but also totally ignores any sensible advice, ever. I even dug up an email from an old, terrible boss, Mr. Williams (February 20th), who was absolutely the secret-keeping, martyr-complex type. And, of course, Frank (March 15th).
This whole investigation conveniently started when I was stuck waiting for my new server rack to arrive for three weeks—supply chain delays, don’t even get me started. So I had all this dead time, just sitting around the house, staring at walls, which meant I had time to obsessively track these poor people’s daily behavior against my checklist. I was literally using little red and green tick marks on my printout.
I wasn’t asking them about their signs. I was watching how they dealt with conflict, how quickly they paid back a five-dollar coffee, and how they reacted to being told “no.”
I tracked Frank’s evasion over four specific tasks, Sarah’s boundary issues when she started borrowing my clothes without asking again, my mom’s insistence on making a complicated recipe when she should have just ordered takeout, and I re-read Mr. Williams’s old passive-aggressive emails, marking every time he played the victim.
It was messy. So messy. Sarah fit 70% of the ‘Good’ traits and about 40% of the ‘Bad.’ Frank was 90% the ‘Bad’ list, which confirmed my worst fears, but then he’d randomly do something intensely thoughtful, throwing a wrench in my whole system.
Phase 3: The Birth Chart Rabbit Hole – Throwing out the Sun Sign
My tracking was failing. It was a statistical nightmare. The traits weren’t a simple yes or no. That’s when I had the realization, and it was a loud one, like smacking your head on a cabinet door.
I spent an entire Saturday afternoon, coffee spilled everywhere, when I finally dug into the real astrology stuff: the Moon sign, the Rising sign, the whole chart. I realized these simple online lists were utterly useless. They tell you about the sun sign. But what if Frank’s moon is in demanding Capricorn and his rising sign is in brutally honest Aries? Now suddenly, his Pisces Sun sign—the dreamy, gentle part—is just a tiny whisper next to the big, loud Capricorn/Aries screams.
I manually plugged in the known birth times of my focus group and calculated their actual dominant traits. When I factored in Sarah’s Moon in Taurus (stubborn!) and my mom’s Jupiter in Scorpio (intense!), the data snapped into focus.
Frank, my initial target? His Moon sign was in Virgo. Virgo! The detail-oriented, service-focused, critical sign. His Pisces sun was trying to chill, but his Virgo moon was freaking out about his worth. He wasn’t lazy; he was paralyzed by the need to be perfect, a classic Virgo flaw, but expressed through Pisces evasion.
The Truth I Dug Up
So, are the Pisces traits real? Yes, absolutely. I’ve seen them in action, but they are never, ever the whole story. I wasted weeks trying to use a two-word label to define a whole person. The traits are like ingredients. You know you have flour, but you don’t know if you’re getting a fluffy cake or a hard biscuit until you see the rest of the recipe.
I didn’t prove astrology is fake, which is what I set out to do. I proved those simple web lists are fake and worthless. Frank is still a pain in the butt, but now I know he’s not just evasive Pisces. He’s evasive Pisces driven by a perfectionist Virgo anxiety, which, weirdly, makes dealing with him slightly easier now that I stopped calling him a space cadet and started giving him super clear, step-by-step instructions. I got my sleep back, even if I still don’t trust him with a deadline. That’s the real truth I found out.
