BoJack And His Wife

Five

You gave a small smile as you allowed one small peck, grazed by the edge of your teeth in a slight bite, to caress the side of his cheek. "Bad press is good press, right?"

Bojack let out something that was between a painful chuckle and a barley achieved hum of agreement. "One of putting it, I guess." His expression furrowed down in thought. "Not that I ever particularly wanted anything to do with press. Especially not in this scenario."

Your eyes turned in thought, cheek easing beside his shoulder as your body cradled beside his while you turned your thoughts over in consideration, arms cradling beside his hips.

"The truth of life and its lessons has come to me in small little narratives of processing now and then." Your face turned forward to his shoulder as your lips pressed on his clothes. "Small little trails of consideration now and then-none of them easy, and all of them leading into an extension and narrative of some madness at some point or another if I fed into the negativity too easily; but then I realized it was all the delicate matter or perspective, but the truth of things were regardless still true, and I would see it turning in front of my eyes even as I tried to deny it."

"Yeah?" Bojack's eyes turned to you in inquiry as he gazed at you with his eyebrows raised, his hand threading against the ticket as he handed it over to the ticketmaster. The ticketmaster turned his eyes over the piece of paper, then eased his eyes over between the two of you as you gave you both a quick raise of his lip and a nod, enlightenment in his eyes of welcome as he turned to the front of the smaller open door that led over to the area of the galactic space on the other side of the door. Bojack's hands threaded and eased against yours, in soft caresses of agreement between skin while his hands eased against your palm in small dances of agreement. "What was that?"

"For me, it was different than what someone like you would have, I imagine. But for me, it was about how I was one of the people in life who didn't matter-who had to learn how to live without love. And it's unfathomable, the amount of life and hardship and entire messiness of life that comes with gradually having to accept that. I've come to accept suffering as the default; there's nothing to be done about it, I've always thought; if there was something inherent in me that was unworthy, and the world was too superficial and cruel to care about it, then my only job then was to accept the inevitability of it. And the more I tried to fight it, the more truth kept coming to me anyway; and the more the negative thoughts and the abrasive hell continued."

Bojack's eyes darted down in thought as he threaded his hands beside the ticket, then spoke a low soft mutter to the ticketmaster beside him as he began to shoulder his way through the crowd along with you.

"And then what?"

"I don't know. Life just kept going, I kept being in pain-but I did learn that keeping myself comforted given my own personal situation, giving the scenario of my life and the emotional needs I had that were deprived, that it was my job to accept pain and suffering. It was my job to accept the lack of love and my small, worthless place in life and to try and carry myself through it every day, terrible as it was; to allow myself to be seen by my pain, if nothing else, to comfort myself in the emotional needs where they weren't met."

He snatched his hand against the side of the door, opening it up almost too briskly as he looked at you and indicated for you to go in while the ticketmaster stepped back, nodding curtly over to the rest of the crowd as they muttered in thanks while they walked their way inward. The narration of the lights and of the overhang of the voice boomed from the inside, trialing with an edge of welcome over to the other side of the door.

"And that helped you?"

"What helped me was learning that I was at the bottom in life-and therefore, it was m job to learn how to navigate with being at the bottom."