Man, talk about a puzzle, right? I remember the first time I really tried to figure out a Pisces guy. It wasn’t just a Pisces guy, it was the Pisces guy in my life, you know? The one that just makes you scratch your head and wonder what’s going on in there. From the get-go, he was always this elusive character, just floating around, sometimes deep, sometimes completely gone. I swear, trying to pin him down was like trying to nail jelly to a tree, but like, really philosophical jelly. You’d think you had a grasp, and then, poof, he’d be off in his own world again. Completely in his head, or in some dream, or somewhere else entirely.
I started by doing what I usually do. I tried to talk it out, you know? Like, “Hey, what are you thinking?” or “What’s bugging you?” And I’d get these vague answers, or sometimes just a look that told me he wasn’t really with me, even if he was sitting right next to me. It drove me nuts. I’m a pretty direct person, I like things laid out, no funny business. But with him, it was always this indirect stuff, these feelings he couldn’t quite put into words, or maybe just didn’t want to. He’d just nod and maybe mumble something about “vibes” or “just feeling it.” I’d be like, “Bro, what are you even talking about?”
My first attempts were all about trying to rationalize him. I’d try to find the logic in his decisions, the concrete reasons behind his emotions. He’d feel something really intensely, and I’d try to break it down, understand the cause and effect. But it never worked. It was like he operated on a completely different frequency. He’d get hurt by things I wouldn’t even notice, or he’d be incredibly understanding about stuff that would make me furious. It was just a constant back-and-forth in my head, trying to apply my framework to his, and it just kept failing. I felt like I was banging my head against a wall, trying to open a door that wasn’t even there.
I remember one specific time, we had a disagreement, nothing huge, but I was ready to hash it out, talk through the points, find a solution. He just shut down. Completely. It wasn’t anger, not really. It was more like he just… retreated. His eyes got distant, and he just went quiet. I pushed, because that’s what I do, you know, “Let’s fix this!” And it only made it worse. He just got even further away. I kept talking, trying to get a reaction, anything. And he just sat there, looking out the window, totally elsewhere. That was a big turning point for me. I realized that my usual playbook was absolute garbage when it came to him. It wasn’t about winning an argument or even finding a logical answer. It was about something much deeper, much more subtle.
So, I stopped. I actually just stopped trying to make sense of him in my way. I started observing, really watching how he moved, how he reacted to things when he thought no one was paying attention. I started paying attention to the silence between his words, the way his mood could shift with the light, or a piece of music. I noticed that he wasn’t just vague; he was incredibly sensitive, almost like a sponge, soaking up everything around him. He felt things that most people just gloss over, and that’s why he’d sometimes just float off – to process all that noise.
I started leaning into empathy rather than logic. When he was quiet, I stopped asking “What’s wrong?” and started just sitting with him, sometimes just putting my hand on his arm, letting him know I was there without needing him to explain. When he talked about his dreams, or some far-fetched idea, I stopped looking for practicality and just listened to the passion in his voice, the way his eyes would light up. I started seeing that his “vague” wasn’t evasiveness; it was often just him trying to articulate feelings that are inherently fuzzy and hard to pin down with sharp words.
And slowly, man, slowly, it was like I finally got a peek into that soul of his. It wasn’t an ocean of answers, but an ocean of feelings, of intuition, of vast, deep empathy. It was messy sometimes, sure. He could be idealistic to a fault, sometimes too trusting, and yeah, still retreat when things got too heavy. But underneath it all, there was this incredible well of compassion, a genuine desire to connect on a soulful level. He wasn’t trying to confuse me; he was just living his truth, a truth that wasn’t linear or logical. He wasn’t a puzzle to be solved; he was a landscape to explore, a deep water to swim in.
It changed how I saw not just him, but people in general. It taught me that sometimes, the “dive into his soul” isn’t about finding specific treasures, but about learning to breathe underwater, about letting go of what you think you know and just feeling the current. It’s about accepting the ebb and flow, the quiet depths, and the occasional stormy surface. And man, once you get it, it’s something else entirely. It made me a softer, more patient person, and in turn, I think, a better friend to him.
