Venus in Aquarius. She makes those decisions in milliseconds—not because she’s changed her mind, nor because she’s afraid. Because Venus in Aquarius is, in essence, among the bravest. But she’s the one who had to reach a breaking point to know her own true.

And the truth is that she doesn’t love him but someone else, and she cannot lie to herself for a lifetime.
Or the truth is that, in that moment, she knows she’ll never be happy if she doesn’t escape.
The truth is that if she doesn’t escape, she’ll stay in a marriage forever—because it becomes all the same to her.
And it’s precisely through a marriage where true love is absent that she arrives at Aquarius, at individuality, at the realization that she can live without everything—sacrifice everything—except her Self.
She simply won’t betray it, not because she doesn’t want to, but because she can’t.

No matter how much her partner ignores her, belittles her, shows intolerance, takes her for granted, or, in slightly better cases, displays endless disinterest in everything she is—her friends, her work, her ideas, her dreams, her laughter, or who she’s talking to on the phone—she slowly becomes more herself.
And then, for the first time in her life, she learns that everything she is, she is for herself. Not for others. Not for anyone but herself.

So she understands, in retrospect, why her parents didn’t pay attention to her the way they did to her siblings, why her genius and uniqueness were praised by complete strangers and random people, why her successes and advancements—paved by her own efforts—went unnoticed by the closest circle of people. Instead, they mocked her, confirmed her worth in some toxic, half-joking way, or acted as if her achievements were nothing special, saying things like, “That’s not a big deal…”
She’s the one no one told in time that she is:

SPECIAL
INTERESTING
INTELLIGENT
GENIUS
MULTITALENTED
FASCINATING
UNEXPECTED
UNPREDICTABLE

But she discovered it herself, gravitating toward the special, interesting, intelligent, genius, talented, fascinating, and unpredictable people. By loving them, she learned how to love herself.
And that’s the crux of her story—her unhappy loves, every relationship she must break free from on her own or be catapulted by them into the darkness of the cosmos, where she shines like a comet, soaring through pain and asking, “How do I escape myself?”
She lives with herself in a way others never will.
She feels everything, all at once, always. For her, fireworks are an everyday occurrence—sparks of joy, sorrow, and those flatlined moments when she feels nothing. Then, all of it again.

Her true love stories are friendships—where joy, laughter, hugs, and support live.
Romantic love isn’t for her. Only fleeting romances, adventures, short-lived connections that linger in memory.
Even if she enters a marriage, she must never cut ties with her friends, or she’ll be unhappy. Because even if she lives with the one she’s truly in love with—someone she admires without reservation, respects immensely, sees as a god, the best, unique, eccentric, unpredictable—it only means she still finds it easier to see what’s within her through others, to love herself through them rather than directly.

That’s why the ones she chooses out of love, passion, and romance sometimes drive her to the edge of sanity—publicly humiliating her, cheating, lying, pushing the boundaries of tolerance and acceptability. The relationships turn sour, and still, she puts herself last, as everyone else in her life always has. Until she escapes.

Until she divorces or breaks free.
She doesn’t choose solitude to keep admiring herself.
And that’s the distant goal and the way out at the same time: to be special, different, and interesting to herself, regardless of whether others see it, know it, or validate it.
Most of the time, she has no idea how many people have sighed for her, written songs for her, how much inspiration she’s left in her wake wherever she appeared, or how many of her so-called “friends” were secretly head-over-heels in love with her. She doesn’t know her worth until she finds it within herself. It doesn’t even cross her mind. She’d think someone’s interested in another woman rather than in her.

Born to first learn how to live without herself, then with herself, and only then—if there’s time and luck—with someone who knows how to love her bravely and wondrously.

Part of her unpredictability is that I’m writing about her in mid-August, when it’s not her time. At the expense of the overhyped (and often undeservedly so) Venus in Gemini, who knows how to coax sweet words from others.

And yes, Venus in Aquarius applies similarly to Venus in aspect with Uranus, the fifth house in Aquarius, or Uranus in Libra. But they, thanks to Venus in other signs, might still find something in marriage. Venus in Aquarius finds nothing in marriage—and that’s exactly why she manages to find her True Self there.
Serbian musician, Kiki Lesendrić, with Venus in Aquarius in opposition to Uranus in Leo, is singer of the band called “Piloti” (Pilots). He perfectly weaves her into all his lyrics, as if dedicating nearly every song to her. The title of this article is a line from one of his songs. This one. Below is translation in English.

Small Traces in the Sky

I wanted to call you,
But I lost your number.
I dialed a thousand and one,
But none of them were yours.

I wanted to hold you,
To tell you one more time.
I heard you’re going somewhere far,
Take care, and travel safe…

I still remember it clearly,
though the picture has faded.
You looked like a bride who fled
From her own wedding, running straight into me.

We were wild for one fleeting lap,
Like two jets racing south,
Leaving only small traces in the sky.

I wanted to call you,
To tell you about that dream.
Thousands of people stood before me,
Yet it felt like I was alone in this world.

That night, we played well.
I saw you somewhere in the crowd.
Later, we met again
When all those people had gone.

And John Lennon came to me in a dream,
As if he’d been here long ago.
In some past life, he was my friend from the block.
I wrote this song with him,
Adding my lines to his words.
And it’s like I can still hear his voice
All around us…

Imagine all the people
Livin’ for today

I still remember it clearly, though the picture has faded.
You looked like a bride who fled
From her own wedding, running straight into me.

We were wild for one fleeting lap,
Like two jets racing south,
Leaving only small traces in the sky.