Quiet Frequency

“Quiet Frequency”

The day hums at a soft 852 hertz,

and my thoughts float with it—

not loud, just weightless.

I came home early,

the world spinning a little too fast.

Maybe it was hunger,

maybe the kind of tired that food can’t fix.

I move slow.

From room to room,

as if I’m remembering how to exist.

The walls feel kind.

The air doesn’t ask questions.

I finish some homework,

count it as proof

that I’m still here,

even when my chest feels distant.

Tomorrow starts again—

a new quarter,

a new mask,

a new maybe.

Halloween’s coming.

I think about colors,

light,

faces I love.

They ask if I’m okay.

I say I’m fine.

Sometimes, that’s almost true.

Just trying to tune into the right frequency again