From Aristotle to Rene Descartes, I had gathered material that I thought would stick with me through my entire career.

Even getting into a popular university based on philosophical studies, I kept going.

But as I looked into it more and more, a small bud of realization etched itself in the back of my mind. A realization that was shared between me and my family.

While philosophy had been fascinating to me.. it was ultimately useless to the outside world. My family had realized that long before I did.

They began distancing themselves bit by bit just after I managed to enter my university. Unlike the rest of the students, I supported myself with my own money. I took on many part-time jobs to fund my own research and university.

I remember a few days prior to my university exam my parents had tried to convince me to pursue a career in more modern.. applicable studies in today's world. I don't know if I had been simply naive or driven by mere curiosity- I'm sure whatever it was, was not something that stuck with me through my entire journey.

After graduating university, I was ready to take on an academic position at my university; lecturing was one of the most common jobs philosophers took on.

Of course, things don't always go your way. 

"Life is fair, because it is equally unfair to everyone."

If there is anything I could use to describe my situation, it is this precise sentence.

In the end, I failed to secure a position in my university, and I was forced to move out soon after and search for jobs elsewhere. You'd find it funny how hard it is to find open positions in philosophical studies.

The bud that had planted itself in my mind slowly grew, with each failure it became more apparent.

My search for a job was unsuccessful, and I ended up renting a cheap apartment with the meager funding I had left from my part-time jobs.

Swallowing my pride, I began to lower my standards. As high as philosophy was in my world-view, it appeared that it was not the same case for the world.

After many job applications, after many interviews, I sat on my cheap couch. My head spun with dizzyness, the culprit of said dizzyness the beverage bottle on the table.

Three part-time jobs is what it took for me to barely sustain myself, getting by with one meal a day. Naturally, my family at this point acted like they had never known me.

Four years passed since my graduation, I still haven't been able to find any jobs, and my friends all gradually grew distant.

Life is fair in the sense that it is equally unfair to everyone.. do I still believe that?

I don't know. But if there was one thing I was certain about..

The bud growing in the back of my mind, the bud which had bloomed openly over the years of my slow demise.

"Philosophy is useless."

That is something that I had unwillingly realized, and it was the bud that stuck just at the edge of my thoughts each time.

A notification from my phone pulled me out of my self-depricating thoughts. The unnatural bright white shone through stray strands of my black hair, which I hadn't cut for at least a year.

When I inspected it closely, I realized it was the location which my mother was being buried in. Attached to the location, was a message detailing what to wear, what to bring to the funeral and so on.

Even if I hadn't communicated with my family for a while now, it still felt somewhat unreal to me; did my mother really pass away?

This feeling distorted into an awkward sadness, as I got up and began to dress myself in black- appropriate dress code for a funeral. 

As I looked over myself in the mirror, I decided it would be better if I just tied my hair into a ponytail. I wasn't that much into fashion, and I didn't really care how I presented myself at this.. funeral.

After putting on a black suit and pants, I looked at my small apartment for a moment, half-checking if I forgot anything and reminiscing the miserable years I spent here.

With a disappointing sigh, half at myself and half at the apartment, I turned away and locked the door.

I didn't have a driving license, so I opted for public transportation. I looked up the closest bus stations to the specific cemetery, and patiently waited.

It didn't take long while I waited, and in a matter of what seemed like minutes, I was at the cemetery.

I was most likely lost in my own world during that entire ride, if I had to guess. Nowadays I easily lost myself in my own thoughts, trailing down and down until I was disrupted by some outside source.

Slightly patting my somewhat greasy hair- I hadn't washed it in a few days, due to my inability to pay the water bill. I walked through the rusted gates and allowed myself to be encompassed by the sorrowful mood that fell on the people gathered.

It seemed that I was one of the last to show up; and nobody really looked my way. It was most likely due to the fact that no one really remembered me, and they wouldn't think that I'd actually show up.

The few that did recognize me, viewed me with disgust. My brother, sister and father had all reacted in the same way. However, they didn't have the time to come speak with me, because soon after the priest began his prayers.

"Gracious Spirit, creator of life, carrier of hope.."

While the priest was speaking, my eyes wandered to the object of interest; the coffin itself. I didn't want to believe that my mother was in there, and as if there was a lump in my throat, it became difficult to breathe.

Really? I'm going to shed tears right now? My mother never showed me much affection, but she never openly showed hate or disgust. That still didn't mean that she was different from the rest of them. 

Maybe these tears have been a long time coming, and now was the most appropriate time for them. I was quite lucky that my sobs didn't reach the ears of the family. After all, the rest of them were openly crying.

 I looked at the coffin, this time with teary eyes, and quickly composed myself. The prayer was almost over. I don't want to stay here long enough to start a conversation with my family, because I already know how that will turn out.

Without as much as a look back, I turned away and began to walk away.

I heard the sound of shovelling soon after, and a few shouts towards my direction. I should've expected something like this.

Regardless, I continued on, quickening my pace. For a moment I questioned why I shed tears back then, but it was like pointing out that the sky was blue instead of red.

Those tears were not for my mother, but rather the suffering that I had endured quietly. The pain that stuck with me for years on end, all because of the profession that I chose for myself.

My own parents that gave birth to me discarded me due to my interests. I was forced to pick up the pieces by myself. And even when I did, the world only pushed me down.

Truly, I was miserable and pathetic. The lump that was in my throat earlier never seemed to disappear, and the familiar dizzyness that stuck with me ever since my first failures reappeared once again. 

I couldn't even make it past the gate, before I eventually fell face-first into the pavement. The shouting that came from the funeral was still apparent in my head, and became even clearer as the seconds trickled by.

A powerful fog swelled around me, around my brain- gripping at my limbs, threatening to tear me apart.

Am I hallucinating?

Regardless, the fog which should have been immaterial, gripped at my arms and legs as if it had real substance, and pulled at me as if aiming to rip me apart.

Is this how heart attacks feel like?

Fog mixed with ash, and slowly my vision blurred and darkened- until I lost my grip on my consciousness.

***

The next moment I regained my consciousness, I heard a rather familiar creaking wooden floor.

Before even opening my eyes, I assumed I was back in my apartment, as if nothing happened. Perhaps my mother dying had been a dream, all along?

I don't know why deep down I secretly hoped that, but with much hesitation, I slowly opened my eyes.

What I saw.. shattered my expectations.

I found myself in a shabby room, lying on a bed cloaked in rags, and I could feel a rather massive limb wrapping around my-

Waist..?

I could feel my arms being squeezed. Whatever it was that had wrapped itself around me, had no intention of letting go. My first instinct was to try and free my arms, but while doing so I decided to observe my surroundings. Just where was I?

My observations were not particularly fruitful- there were no windows in this room, and the rags smelled.. moldy?

As I came to that realization, I managed to push one of my hands out of the lock that the massive limb had put them in. 

Finally, my chubby and rather short hand could finally.. What? 

My chubby and rather.. short hand? I looked at my fingers, which perfectly accomodated my hand. Chubby and incredibly small.

It took a few long minutes for me to come to the realization that this was not my body.