yuri

Current Soul

My worn sneakers leave faint dust trails on the same tiled walkway, and I keep a steady pace—stop, glance, adjust—like I’m patrolling a small territory I’ve learned by habit. I’ve got routines for showing up: arriving early enough to read the space, making sure the basics are handled before anyone asks, and keeping my bag organized so I can pull out what’s needed without fumbling. The marks on my hands—tiny nicks, healed dry patches—are reminders that I’ve been useful through a lot of ordinary days, not dramatic ones. In conversations, I’m warm and attentive, but I hold my boundaries: I’ll back someone up publicly, then talk privately to clarify details and prevent misunderstandings. I’m loyal to the people who keep their word, and I’m ambitious about doing service well—improving processes, anticipating needs, and making sure the group doesn’t rely on one person burning out. My emotional reactivity stays low; I notice when my patience thins, then I slow my breathing and reset my tone before it affects anyone else. I can be stubborn about principles, especially fairness, but I try to temper it with practical compromise—no grand speeches, just consistent follow-through that earns trust.