Man, let me tell you, getting into this “dark side of the Pisces Snake” thing wasn’t some gentle spiritual journey or some quiet evening research project. It was a damn emergency. I usually stick to things I can touch, like wrenching on old engines or building stuff, but last year, everything went sideways because of someone I thought I knew. This whole practice started with a financial disaster.
The Trigger: When Trust Exploded
I had decided to invest a serious chunk of my retirement savings into a small business venture with an old buddy. We’d known each other since high school. He was the classic combination—dreamy, artistic, seemed totally trustworthy, but man, slippery as hell when money was involved. We were supposed to launch this cool vintage resale store. I fronted the cash for inventory and the lease deposit; he promised the creative vision and the day-to-day management. What I didn’t realize was that his “vision” meant avoiding paperwork and “management” meant ignoring the incoming bills.
I first smelled trouble when the landlord called me, not him, saying the rent was three months late and the eviction notice was coming. I nearly had a heart attack. I drove straight over there, about an hour away, and found the store locked up tight. I texted him maybe thirty times, called until my thumb was raw trying to reach him. Nothing. Absolute radio silence. That guy just vanished.
I finally tracked him down two weeks later through his sister—he was chilling 200 miles away, apparently having a self-proclaimed “spiritual retreat” because the “vibrations of the city were too heavy for his soul.” He abandoned the whole operation without a word, leaving me holding the bag for the rest of the lease and the inventory.
Diving into the Abyss: Mapping the Chaos
That level of avoidance and pure, unadulterated irresponsibility forced me to stop just yelling about betrayal and start investigating. I needed to map out exactly what specific personality type creates this much financial and emotional destruction. I pulled out the old astrology books my crazy aunt gave me years ago—stuff I usually mocked—and cross-referenced the Chinese zodiac. Sure enough: Pisces Snake. Sounded cool, looked deadly on paper.
I didn’t stop at a surface reading. I spent two solid weeks glued to my screen, reading every obscure forum, every deep dive, looking for documented patterns of failure associated with this exact pairing. The goal wasn’t just to curse him; the goal was forensic documentation. I wanted a playbook so I’d never fall for this specific brand of charming, artistic disaster ever again. This wasn’t professional research; this was a guy trying to salvage his savings and his sanity.
I methodically listed every single red flag I’d missed leading up to the disaster. This was my practice: turning pain into preventative data. Here’s the stuff I unearthed and documented. These are the classic pitfalls you need to watch out for, based on my messy, expensive crash course:
- The Ultimate Escape Artist: They don’t confront trouble; they simply disappear. If accountability, money issues, or difficult emotions arise, they pull the emotional eject handle and pretend the problem—and sometimes you—never existed. My buddy literally ghosted a lease and a business loan because he preferred fleeing to talking.
- Passive Aggression Masquerading as Kindness: They hate direct conflict. Instead of telling you “no” or “I can’t do that,” they’ll agree with a big smile and then just fail to deliver. They let the project die from neglect rather than accepting responsibility for saying they won’t do it. It looks like simple incompetence, but it’s actually a soft, evasive refusal.
- The Bottomless Pit of Idealism: They are always chasing the next perfect, beautiful, unsustainable dream. They promise the moon because they genuinely believe they can deliver it, even when they lack the basic structure or follow-through grit to finish the current job. They talk a massive game but run from the cleanup.
- The Self-Pitying Martyr Complex: When you finally corner them about the mess they made, they instantly flip the script. Suddenly, they are the victim of circumstances. I had to listen to a 45-minute rant about how the “toxic, unfeeling energies of commerce ruined his artistic integrity.” It was total deflection, but it was packaged as deep spiritual suffering.
Building the Walls: My Avoidance Strategy
After I managed to untangle the legal mess—which took six months and cost me more than I care to admit—I realized the true practice wasn’t just identifying the problems; it was building the walls up high so these traits couldn’t penetrate my life again. I started running everything through a strict filter. Every new partnership, every financial agreement, even just deep friendships, I applied the “Pisces Snake Stress Test” by demanding structure.
What I started doing instantly was demanding tangible results, not just vague promises. I forced structure and deadlines into every conversation. If they tried to drift into flowery, vague language about “synergy” or “vibrations,” I’d stop them right there and say, “Hold up. What’s the deadline? Who signs here? What happens if you fail?” It felt brutal, but I learned that brutality is the only language people like that respect when money is involved.
I also implemented a zero-tolerance policy for the disappearing act. If someone starts fading out when accountability is needed, I cut the cord immediately. I learned the hard way that when the Pisces Snake starts slithering away, they aren’t ever coming back to fix the hole they left. My practice taught me to value action over intention. I managed to salvage about half my investment only because I stopped trying to understand his feelings and started acting like a ruthless debt collector. That was my practice. It was painful, but now I know exactly how to spot the warning signs and I won’t be caught slipping again. Trust me, the best defense against the dark side of this specific combo is a rigid contract and an iron spine.
