I have come to settle with the idea that you will be whatever to anyone.
You will be a good man to the old lady you helped across the highway. You will be a wicked uncle to the niece you forced to do homework when she would rather watch TV.
You will mean the world to that partner whose life became heaven because you said yes, and you will be a devil to the friend you turned down.
You will be many things that you are, and are not.
Your nectar will be venom to that stranger whose meat is your poison.
The number will be six to the man standing North, and nine to the man down South.
But what do these matter? There should be no apology if you are simply you to yourself.