Gemini sun, Libra moon.

You can see every side, which is why you sleep so late.

Double air: conversation as home address. Fairness and curiosity make you the confidant of rivals. Own a verdict occasionally; the fence was never load-bearing.

Discord costs you double what it costs the others.

A Libra moon refuels on harmony you can hear: beauty, fairness, a room with no live argument in it. You can host a war and never show it, but the invoice arrives in your body later.

Your closest people meet the director; everyone else meets the cast.

You adapt in public and initiate in private: agreeable in the room, decisive at two a.m. You rarely fight for the wheel, yet the car somehow arrives where you wanted.

The corrective is not difference but depth: you do the thing, all the way down.

The internet writes Gemini off as two people and neither one listening. With a Libra moon the rumor is, for once, nearly aimed right; you are the concentrated pour.

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.