Laura loves astrology because it is infinitely easier to blame her shortcomings on burning balls of space gas, rather than her lack of commitment to personal development. It’s the millennial way.
Like all addictions, hers began at a party, where a girl from Byron Bay passed her a burning joint of knowledge, “guys, like, totally can’t resist me on a full moon, I’m totes picking up tonight”. At that moment her world was changed forever.
Several months passed, and she was balls deep into the moist crevice of pseudolosophy. She knew what she needed to do. She needed to dig out a selfie of herself from a 2015 Eurotrip with a caption from Carl Jung:
“We are born at any given moment, in a given place and, like vintage years of wine, we have the qualities of the year we are born. Follow the heavens, and be a glass of Grange, or be a hater, and end up a bottle of Gossips #astrology#shestarsigns#carljung#libra#zodiackillinit#moonenergy.”
Laura had the backing of the Jung-meister and was going to shine brighter than the bedside-crystals she now believes wards away the autist-toxins she copped through vaccinations as a child. Sadly, her shine was too blinding for a recent job interviewer.
She somehow didn’t get the job, despite totally nailing the question about her significant weaknesses. Since when is, “as a Libra I find it hard to make decisions and cannot inhabit the same emotional space as a Leo” not count as a good answer? Their loss.
She complains to a close friend, “I specifically applied for this job when Mercury wasn’t in Retrograde!” Her friend agrees that Laura clearly did everything she could to prepare for herself for success by avoiding proactivity based on an optical illusion a few months every year.
So, the universe was kinda screwing her over on the employment front, but on the bright side it was her birthday, and she had made it very clear that there would be a blood moon if her new lover didn’t spoil her on her big day – it’s such a Libra with a Sagittarius dad thing, sweetie.
Over dinner, the lover slides her a box of undeniably cheap jewellery. The red mist of a shit-gift eclipses her demeanour, and she shoots him a look that would make a gold digger sitting at her sugar daddy’s bankruptcy hearing look content.
It had only been 3 months, but Laura knew that they could never complete the celestial coupling process if he was a tight-arse drainer, “babe, I always knew this would be a problem, but you’re a Capricorn, and I just don’t feel like our energies are vibing, ya know?”. That will teach him to get her a fuckin’ Zamels bracelet.
Instead of some well-needed self-reflection on her bullshit, she decides instead to go and see a tarot card reader. That’ll sort her out, probably.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?
