I Tried Manifesting My Rent Money — The Universe Left Me on Read
You know that moment when your bank app takes a few seconds longer than usual to load and you start whispering affirmations like, “I am abundant. Money flows to me easily. Please, just let it be more than R42.87 this time”? That was me, every day for two weeks. Because this month, I decided to try manifesting my rent money. Not budgeting, not side hustling, not even grovelling to family. Just vibes. Pure, uncut, cosmic intention. Spoiler alert: the universe ghosted me.
It all started with a TikTok video that said if I acted like I already had the money, the money would appear. Easy. I spent that Friday walking around Checkers like I had Black Card energy. I eyed the fancy almond butters. I nodded knowingly at imported mushrooms. I even said, “We should get the aged balsamic,” to no one in particular. I didn’t actually buy any of it, obviously. But I felt rich. Surely the universe felt that too?
By day three, I had lit a green candle, written affirmations in a journal, and placed a bay leaf with the word “RENT” under my pillow. I even opened my window so the wind could carry my intentions into the ether (or at least towards Sandton). Still nothing.
Friends started asking if I was okay. I told them I was practising “deliberate receiving.” They said it sounded like I was broke. One of them, bless her, sent me R100 with the message “For snacks while you wait for divine timing.” That was the only money I manifested.
Week two was where the panic set in. My landlord is not a vibes-based entity. He’s a “Where is the EFT proof?” kind of man. I tried reasoning with the universe. I said, “Hey, I know I said I’d trust you, but maybe you missed my request? Do you want me to burn more sage? Speak louder? Sing?” I sang. I burnt the sage. Still nothing.
I started noticing how often we tell people to trust the universe, as if it’s a supportive auntie with good advice and a secret bank account. But what if the universe is more like a WhatsApp group you left on mute? Full of messages, no replies. Or worse—blue ticks and silence.
Eventually, I caved. I called a client and asked if they needed help with anything. Suddenly, I’m doing a brochure for a plumbing company in Boksburg. Is it glamorous? No. But it paid half my rent. The other half came from pawning a camera I haven’t used since 2020. In the end, the only thing I manifested was humility.
Look, I still believe in energy. I still believe there’s power in positive thinking. But I also believe in debit orders. And as far as I can tell, FNB doesn’t accept good vibes as legal tender. I think manifesting works best as an enhancer, not a replacement. It’s like seasoning. Great to add, terrible on its own.
So if you’re out there right now, chanting to your crystals and hoping for a miracle, I see you. I respect the hustle. But maybe also update your CV, answer that email, and keep your WiFi on. Because sometimes the sign you’re asking the universe for is actually just your boss sending a WhatsApp saying, “Can you jump on a quick call?”
And if the universe ever replies to my messages? It better come with a payment reference.
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