Both, I said.

Just please don't go.
You know, you take my heart with you.
Split and torn between its halves
I wondered, once, if I'd be judged for choosing my friends over family.
Now I wonder if I've chosen wrong.
If I'm choosing some family I might never know
Over those I know love all of me.
I drink, maybe I'm more truthful
With that damned frontal lobe turned off.
Maybe I find some depth of experience there
Maybe I discover something I wish I didn't know anyway.
I always wanted to come home.
You always told me,
You can't ever come home again.
It's never quite the same,
I know.
I can't ever really come home again.
But I can be here and now.
I can't ever put a price on or weigh a difference between smelling my little cousin's newborn head
And hearing my soul-sister's deepest belly laugh.
So I'll always regret not having more of both.
And I'll always rejoice in having some of both.