Your attraction is astrological, not logical.

Attraction doesn’t ask for logic. It comes without warning or reason. You feel it, then fall. Not planned, never fully safe. It begins as a flicker. A breath that shifts everything. You look, and it starts. Their energy brushes past yours. The silence feels strangely loud. You feel seen, then shaken. Nothing in you feels still. You didn’t mean to notice. But you already did. In magnetism astrology, this is fate. The pull speaks in silence. It’s written, not chosen freely. The heart moves before thought. You don’t ask—it just knows. No chart prepares you enough. No book explains this ache. It’s chemistry without the science. It’s alignment without straight lines.

They don’t glow—they disturb peace. It’s not love, not yet. It’s hunger for something unnamed. You want to look away. You can’t. Their presence shifts time. A minute feels like hours. Their voice feels like déjà vu. You dream before you speak. Their absence feels loud, too. You search for meaning quietly. But nothing feels quite real. You laugh, then fall silent. Everything echoes when they’re gone. Their energy doesn’t leave quickly. You carry it for weeks. You wish you hadn’t felt. But you still want more. This isn’t healthy. It isn’t safe. But it feels like truth.

Planets create this strange gravity. Venus attracts, Mars stirs heat. Rahu distorts, stretches the longing. Together, they create deep magnetism. You don’t control the pull. The pull controls your breath. You orbit around their silence. You crave without full reason. It’s familiar, yet confusing always. You’ve never met them before. But something in you remembers. A name without a face. A wound without clear pain. This is the soul’s memory. It pulls without asking why. You’re left holding emotions alone. But you wouldn’t trade it. Not even the ache stays. Something else stays much longer. Something wordless, but real.

People with strong charts radiate deeply. They don’t try. They just are. They walk in. You feel it. You don’t need proof. You just sense everything. You wish you were wrong. But you’re not. They draw light inward. You forget what’s around you. Only their field remains present. It’s not performance. It’s their nature. They stir what sleeps inside. Even if they leave quickly. Even if nothing happens later. The mark still lives inside. Not always as love. Sometimes as weight, question, pause. They were the lesson itself. Not the ending you hoped.

Magnetism doesn’t promise a future. It promises a feeling—strong, rare. You won’t forget the shift. The way time bent briefly. The way air thickened silently. No one else saw it. But you still carry it. You tried to explain. But words weren’t enough. It wasn’t meant for logic. It was meant for remembrance. For soul-sight. For soft awakening. Something cracked open inside you. That doesn’t close again easily. Nor should it ever close.

You stop chasing meaning directly. You learn to feel instead. You become quieter inside. But also deeper, more aware. Attraction is energy’s language, always. It doesn’t need understanding. It only needs presence. You felt it. That was real. Even if nothing stayed. Even if it ended strangely. It was meant to stir. And stir it did—completely.