Not How do I manifest a dream job? or Which crystal brings prosperity?
No. Cat vomit. On a vision board. If they’d bothered to read about vision boards or cosmic signs, they’d know that sometimes, crap just happens, no message from the universe intended. But no, they want me to answer every query while they do zero research.
I don’t miss a beat. “Cats can sense shifts in your aura. It might mean the universe is testing your commitment to your vision, Amber! So clean it up, but do so with intention. And give your kitty a treat!”And next time, kitty will hopefully puke on your keyboard before you ask me such a ridiculous question.
I maintain my smile even as I think that. The camera captures all. Everything in the shot, at least.
I’m careful not to show the tiny, empty apartment around me.
All three hundred square feet is set as a stage for the abundance I try to sell yet never quite manage to manifest for myself. I know I’ll figure it out soon, though. My plateauing follower count is just a minor setback. For sure.
Three salt lamps stand guard nearby, their amber glow arranged for maximum radiance while the tinfoil layered on the wall behind them reflects the light. Crystals cluster on a sheet-covered stack of boxes disguised as a table, balanced on the line between sacred and photographic.
Usually, I use a tapestry of the seven chakras as a backdrop during my live streams, the rainbow colors dripping down the wall. Today, though, I’ve had the urge for a change of scenery and shifted my decor around. Behind me is a large piece of calming sky-blue fabric I hung from the ceiling, and an air fern and four potted succulents surround me. I bought them on clearance last week thanks to miniscule cracks in the terra cotta.
Even with today’s new backdrop, everything’s angled to say,abundance,authenticity, andancient wisdom.
Nothing within frame betrays the truth…that my bank balance is always just three digits away from negatives.
My own vision board rests out of sight, just below the camera’s gaze. Worked and reworked. Curated. All the adventures I’ve never tasted. Skydiving through clouds, BASE jumping down a waterfall, swimming with dolphins spiraling in blue water. Cash, cascading like a waterfall of paper abundance. In the dead center, I’ve pastedAuthentic partnershipin bold, and under that,Powerful decisive energy, the letters looped in hopeful ink.
My stomach growls. I freeze, worried the mic caught the rumble. I only ate half a grapefruit for dinner so I could save the rest for breakfast.
Not quite the sumptuous, bountiful feast I instruct my followers to imagine.
Still waiting on the mushroom tea company’s next payment, I had to postpone my grocery run. Last month, they claimed my conversion rate was “not satisfactory” and withheld my affiliate bonus.
A pulse of desperation prickles just beneath the surface of my skin. The reality of my situation isn’t lost on me.
I’m one bad month away from losing my nonexistent savings, my apartment, and the slim life I’ve struggled to build.
I exhale, picturing the desperation blowing away. I won’t let doubts or negative thoughts weigh me down.
At the Soul Journeyers conference next weekend, I’ll have a chance to get more followers. Maybe even gain a real advertiser or two. Visibility. Connections. Opportunity.
Three years. Six hundred and twenty-nine followers. And half a grapefruit.
Sometimes I wonder if I’m attracting the wrong kind of abundance. I have an abundance of empty space.
Still, I try and remember how far I’ve come. I started with nothing, and now I’ve got my own place. My own, if used, laptop. And six hundred and twenty-nine beautiful souls who watch me every week.
I refocus on the camera and the one good thing I have to look forward to. “For those of you joining me at the Soul Journeyers conference, my lecture and presentation will expand on this. In fact…”
I lean off camera toward my small bookshelf, where I’ve arranged my spiritual reference texts in a rainbow pattern. The books I actually read—all true crime police procedurals with daring female leads and mystery novels—are hidden under my bed.
“There’s a book here I think you’ll find inter…es…ting…”
My voice falters, thinning into silence.
A man-shaped hole fills my apartment doorway, reality warping around the empty space. Nothing alive should be that stagnant.
His approach came with no warning.
No protesting hinges or scuffs on the floor. One moment, the doorway was empty. The next, he appeared.
For the briefest nanosecond, my mind jumps back to my childhood, when I used to peek out from under my covers at the monstrous shapes created by the clothes hanging in the dark closet.
Then reality punches straight through my fantasy.
