Original Advice
“DONT: Don’t text at midnight when overwhelmed; sleep first.”
Put The Phone In The Ocean
Your midnight text isn’t love; it’s leakage. At 12:07 a.m., you’re not sharing feelings, you’re spilling them on whoever will mop. You want a lifeline, not a conversation. You recruit witnesses for a storm that will pass. The glow feels like a raft; it’s a hole. Stop exporting chaos. Keep it contained long enough to meet it sober.
At midnight your brain runs on fumes, your body runs on alarms. Blue light hammers your pupils. Memory edits itself into doom. Tides are high; Neptune pours fog in your mouth. Sleep is the filter you refuse to use. Morning restores prefrontal brakes, language, proportion. The message you wanted to send becomes a question. The question becomes a boundary.
Cosmic Context
You’re a Pisces: porous, tidal, tuned to every frequency. When the Moon tugs and Neptune blurs edges, your boundaries must do the steering.
Action
──────Put the phone in another room by 10 p.m.
✨ You are allowed to be unread until morning. ✨