Metroscopes: What the stars have in store for you this Aries season

It's horoscopes, by Metro. Metroscopes! What the stars are telling you for April. 

Read last issue's Metroscopes: What the stars are telling you for 2020

Feb 19 ‒ Mar 20
Remember the David Foster Wallace keynote address “Fishtown 101” (alternative title: “This Is Water”)? It’s an evocative and beautiful reminder about the importance of retaining empathy and awareness during difficult times. It’s also a bit rich, coming from someone who threw tables at women whenever his feelings got hurt. DFW may have been a sensitive Pisces, but that didn’t stop him from using his vulnerability as a weapon. 2020 is a great time to cast aside that bandanna, figure out what cruelties are disguised as kindnesses, and what forms of control are masquerading as freedom. Ask yourself: is this water, or is it fish piss and microbeads?

Mar 21 ‒ Apr 19
Famous Aries Hans Christian Andersen once visited Charles Dickens and overstayed his welcome so badly Dickens wrote on the mirror; “Hans Andersen slept in this room for five weeks – which seemed to the family AGES!” Determination, stubbornness and relentless optimism are all very well if you’re busy punishing fictional mermaids, but a little emotional intelligence wouldn’t go astray. Read the room, Aries.

Apr 20 ‒ May 20
Shakespeare, you’ve already bought the quill and the pantaloons. Are you ready to get to work or are you just in it for the accessories? If you can’t be bothered following your dreams, at least pay someone to follow them for you.

May 21 ‒ Jun 20
Just like Hardy, you’re a sucker for misery. Tess sentenced to death for murder? Too bad, she seemed such a nice girl. You’re fooling no one; try not to take so much joy in other people’s suffering

Jun 21  Jul 22
Famous Cancerian Marcel Proust wrote a seven-volume novel about biscuit nostalgia. Reflecting on the past is important for personal growth, but there’s such a thing as overkill.

Jul 23  Aug 22
Leo, you Bukowski ass bitch. Cut down on the drinking, do your taxes and let that bluebird fly. Remember; just because it will sound funny in your memoirs doesn’t make it a good idea.

Aug 23  Sep 22

Virgo Tolstoy once wrote in his diary, “I’ve fallen in love or imagine I have. Bought a horse that I don’t need at all.” Never mind. We all make mistakes, horse-shaped or otherwise. Giddy-up, sweetheart.

Sep 23 
‒ Oct 22
You are a romantic like famous Libran F Scott Fitzgerald, but what’s romantic about your wife burning to death in an asylum? You may be good at fresh starts, but your endings need some revision.

Oct 23 ‒ Nov 21
Okay, we get it. You’re the Keats of the zodiac – romantic, passionate, tragic, visionary. But have you considered not dying young of tuberculosis in a field of wild violets? Just something to think about.

Nov 22 ‒ Dec 21
Nostradamus, Nostradamus. We all know the world is ending, but your attention-seeking predictions about eagles and burning towers aren’t helping. Cut the melodrama and do something useful for once.

Dec 22 ‒ Jan 19
While everyone else is upstairs at the party, you’re down in the basement, adding yet another dialect to your fictional dwarf language. Try coming up for air occasionally. Man cannot live by topographical maps alone.

Jan 20 ‒ Feb 18
Charles Dickens had nothing to distract him apart from eating mutton and ignoring his 10 children. No wonder he wrote so many books. Put down the sheep fork and stop procrastinating; it’s now or never.

This piece originally appeared in the March-April 2020 issue of Metro magazine.

Follow Metro on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram and sign up to our weekly email