Aries sun, Aquarius moon.

You rebel first and draft the constitution after.

Fire acts, air reasons at a distance: you are the activist wing of your own personality. Anger cools into analysis fast, which spares you feuds. The cause changes; the charging does not.

Togetherness with an exit is still togetherness.

An Aquarius moon refuels at one remove: the long view, the odd hobby, a room of your own inside the crowd. You come back warmer from an hour alone than from an evening of company, and the people who last understand that math.

You begin fast and forgive slowly.

You launch on the outside and keep on the inside: the world sees initiative, but your feelings sign long leases. New projects, old grudges; fresh starts, ancient loyalties.

You are not a typical Aries; nobody with this moon is.

The internet writes Aries off as all impulse and no follow-through. Your Aquarius moon rewrites the chemistry: the needs underneath are narrated, argued, and footnoted. What looks like feeling less is thinking about feeling, at length, in private.

Feed the moon first: say the inner weather out loud, to one person or one page.

Unspoken it becomes static; spoken it becomes weather you can fly in. Keep one correspondent who receives the unedited forecast.