The stars are giant flaming orbs of gas, floating in a vacuum. They dictate nothing. They determine nothing in your life. They do not care about you, or your girlfriend, or your job, or your sister’s wedding, or your car not starting, or whether you’re “the jealous type.” They do not get to decide whether you get along with Libras, or can’t stand Cancers, or are having a bad day. They don’t care about anything, because they are giant flaming orbs of gas, floating in a vacuum. Stars don’t even care about stars. If you’re lazy, or sleazy, or easily angered, it’s your own fault—not the galaxy’s.
