Magnetism

I don’t chase anymore.

Chasing was a younger version of me, the version who believed desire had to be earned,

proved, justified, begged for.

Now I understand something quieter, deeper, more sovereign:

I don’t chase. I call. I align. I become the frequency of what I want to receive.

I don’t plead with the universe the way I once did.

Hands trembling, voice shaking, as though divinity required desperation to take me seriously.

Now I open my palms, steady and unashamed, and say:

I am ready.

Reveal what has been moving toward me all along.

Positivity, for me, is not a manic optimism or a smile worn like armour.
It is the quiet, intelligent belief that even in the disarray, even in the undoing, there is an architecture forming underneath an unseen blueprint reorganising my life in my favour.

Manifestation is not magic. It is memory. A remembering of who I was before fear rewired me.

A remembering of what I deserve before conditioning convinced me to shrink.

A remembering of the part of me that already knows how to magnetise what is meant for me.

It’s not about forcing outcomes or sprinting toward milestones with frantic hunger.

It’s about becoming the kind of woman whose presence alone shifts the room.

The kind who carries such unwavering clarity that her future feels compelled to meet her halfway.

I speak to my future softly now, but with authority.

Not from longing, but from recognition.

I whisper:

I trust the parts of me waking up.

I trust where this path is leading.

I trust the timing I once cursed

for moving too slowly.

And something rearranges itself inside me.

Not dramatic. But tectonic.

A version of me steps forward, the one who knows she is chosen by the very dreams she’s trying to claim.

This is manifestation: not the frantic reaching but the elegant returning.

Not the grasping but the remembering.

Not the chase but the calibration.

I hold my desires with devotion now, not like fragile glass but like sacred inheritance.

I speak to them like they are already seated at my table:

I’m coming. I know the way now. Keep the light on. Put the kettle on.

And positivity? It’s not naive hope. It’s not a delusion.

It’s the radical belief; that what is aligned with my highest self cannot miss me because I am becoming impossible to miss.

Every day, I move closer to what calls my name.

And every day, what calls my name moves closer to me.

This is magnetism: the art of becoming so deeply, undeniably yourself that everything meant for you has no choice but to arrive.