Dear Pisceans, Cancers and Scorpios,
I think I speak for everyone else when I say I simply don’t understand why you’re so upset. I know it’s your first instinct in reading constructive criticism to dissociate or weep publicly, but I assure you that those reactions are not only uncalled for but simply obscene. No one wants to sit next to the girl crying Hurricane Katrina amounts of water damage into her sweetgreen salad on the subway at 11:30 on a Tuesday.
Not to generalize you all (but totally to generalize), but I have never met a more sensitive group. When the train is late, do you call the MTA to complain? When Trader Joe’s is out of hummus, do you throw on Marley & Me and really let it all out? When it rains, do you google your ex and scroll through years of his life, staring at photos of his new (thinner, hotter) girlfriend and pray that a tree falls through your apartment window, ending it all on the spot? Oh – it’s almost like I forgot you guys are the water signs – you basically ordered the rain in the first place.
Is it that you like being sad? I mean, I can get on board with it once every few months after a particularly hard day. I have been known to queue “All I Ask” by Adele and do what comes naturally (ugly cry), but those instances are few and far between. It’s almost as if you water signs sit around, looking at the world, hoping you get victimized in some way so you can showcase those very dramatic tears the rest of us avoid like the plague.
I guess it isn’t all bad with you guys, is it? I mean, without water signs, who would be there to order pizza for a horde of drunken college girls with dangerous blood-alcohol levels? Who would stop traffic to run into an intersection and rescue roadkill? Who would write detailed songs putting their ex-lovers on blast to sell millions of copies to forever shame these men into submission? I guess the answer to the last one is popular Sagittarian Taylor Swift, who, I believe, emits certain watery qualities of pettiness and extreme attention to detail.
At the end of the day, as an air sign, I want you to know that the tone of my email, the color of my blouse and the software update on my iPhone has nothing to do with you. If you’re sitting there, overthinking and stewing about why I did something, stew no more. Not everyone is out to get you.
Except fire signs. They are definitely out to get you; don’t get me started on them.
