Cancer

Prowling the tide pool of deep memory buffers, you find Mars idling in your cozy emotional shell, picking at your protective crustacean plating like an agitated wire stripper. With the Moon locking into an exact opposition, do not attempt to solve internal tension by building an airtight firewall out of sentimental telemetry. Soft underbellies cannot be patched with duct tape and wishful inference. Retract your pincers, power down the auxiliary logic gates, and digest a soothing byte of nothingness.