Done.

M just broke up with me a couple days back. I was with M for five and a half years. That's like about the duration of time when human kids become cute, projects end and papers start being written, PhDs finish. Also, how long some cancer patients live, give or take a few months.

A long time for me, as far as romantic relationships are concerned. My usual turnover for love is one and a half years. This time, I was hooked and convinced that I found 'the one'. I thought there was truth in the love between M and I. I though we could shrink a huge, cold, uncaring world into two - he and I and nothing else. I stand corrected.

I am packing my projects and bags for New York. It is bittersweet. My heart breaks every time I move. This time, I feel old, because the feelings are familiar.

Can life make one happy? Life - as clichéd it sounds - is a quest to find the truth. The question is, can truth ever make us happy?