The June 2017 Virgo Horoscope Audit
I had this file buried deep. I was cleaning out my old cloud drive last week, just dumping everything I didn’t need, trying to free up space on the cheapest plan they offer. Honestly, I didn’t want to pay another five bucks a month. Then I hit this folder: ‘2017 Life Chaos Logs.’ I opened it, and bam—there was the screenshot. ‘Virgo Monthly June 2017.’ Man, I stared at that pixelated image for a good five minutes.
Why June 2017? Because that was the absolute worst time. That’s when things with my then-girlfriend, let’s just call her ‘The Cyclone,’ were an absolute train wreck. We were fighting constantly. I mean, screaming matches over who forgot to buy milk. I remember searching for those horoscopes almost daily back then, desperate for some sign, some instruction manual, some cosmic intervention, to just stop the arguing. My life felt like a cheap sitcom with terrible writing, and I needed the script for the next episode.
So, years later, I pulled up the image, zoomed in on the text, and started reading. This time, I approached it differently. Back then, I was looking for hope; now, I was conducting an audit. I was checking the receipts. I specifically focused on the section titled ‘Your Love Life and Connections,’ because that’s the bit I obsessed over. I pulled out an old physical journal I’d kept that year—a beaten-up, dog-eared thing—and compared the prediction line by line to my actual documented reality.
The horoscope had three main bullet points for relationships. I checked them off against the disaster I had recorded.
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Prediction 1: “The stars advise that this month you must step back and avoid confrontation. A misunderstanding, left alone, will resolve itself after the 15th.”
What Actually Happened: I tried this. Oh, I absolutely tried it. The morning of the 5th, she started in about an email I hadn’t sent. I clenched my jaw and walked away, trying to be the calm, star-guided Virgo. Did it resolve? No. She took my silence as passive aggression. It exploded into a three-day silent treatment that culminated with me sleeping on the couch on the 10th. The prediction was wrong. Stepping back ignited a dumpster fire, it didn’t solve anything.
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Prediction 2: “A new social connection will be a valuable source of practical relationship advice near the end of the month.”
What Actually Happened: Okay, this one is kinda weird. I signed up for a stupid pottery class on the 20th just to get out of the house. I met an old dude there, a retired accountant who just liked messing with clay. He saw me constantly staring at my phone, looking miserable. He didn’t give me “relationship advice” exactly, but he told me to stop worrying about what other people did and focus on what I was creating with my own two hands. I realized the core of my relationship problem was that I was constantly trying to micromanage her life. I guess that counts as practical advice, so I’ll give them half a point.
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Prediction 3: “Finances and romance are intertwined. Clear up one, and the other will follow. You must initiate the conversation about shared goals.”
What Actually Happened: This was the biggest BS. We were broke, yeah, but only because we were stress-buying stuff to make up after fights. I tried to talk about shared goals on the 25th, sitting her down with a printout of our budget. She threw the printout at me and yelled that I was too controlling. The conversation didn’t happen. We argued about money, not because we needed to budget, but because the underlying connection was already shredded. The finances didn’t cause the romance issues, the romance issues wrecked the finances. The cart was before the horse.
I shut the journal. I closed the screenshot. What did I learn? I spent all that time chasing cosmic directions, waiting for the stars to align, when the only thing that actually helped was some random accountant telling me to stop obsessing and start making a pot. The only bit that was true, the “new social connection” thing, was just pure coincidence, a side effect of me trying to escape the toxic situation that the other predictions failed to fix.
The whole thing came down to this: I was desperate for someone—anyone—to tell me what to do. I didn’t need a horoscope; I needed to grow up and get out of a relationship that was already dead. The horoscope just prolonged the agony by telling me to wait for a magic date on the calendar. That old memory hit hard, reminding me how much I’ve changed. Now, if I want something fixed, I don’t ask the stars; I grab a wrench and start the work myself.
