Leaving for a dream, or is it Living?

It was very early and dark. I dont really know why I decided to leave my country who knows for how long and this early. Nobody is up, nobody is taking me to the airport. I wonder, dont they know that I may not be coming back? Do they care that I left and I am not coming back? Probably they dont. Why do I feel so hurt? What happened to me all these years? Why do I hate everybody so much?I try to stop my mind from all those bad thoughts and I go downstairs. The taxi is waiting,I am wearing two jackets, because it's freezing outside. The driver help me put the bags in the trunk. I get on the cab and the men says "Where to?"The airport, I tell him. Now is not the time to cry, I've decided that this is the best for me, and that's the way is gonna be. I check my bags and I walk towards the gate.The stamped my passport and wished me good luck. I said to myself, I am going to need some of that.The trip wasn't long, the life wasn't bad. It is still pretty good.There was a lot to forget from those days, there is a lot to forget from the new days. Now I know that you can't to escape your fears, they will come in your bags with you. It is better to confront them. It's been six years since I left the darkness looking for a dream. Time goes by and that dream get closer and closer. Is it here? Did I reach my dream? Today I know that maybe I wouldn't have to leave my country to reach that unexistent happynes that I was craving so bad. Maybe I wouldn't be writing about this if I stayed there. I am a survivor after all...