You’re going to rehab, it’s official. To get your thoughts off of the contemptible situation, you decide to take your first steps towards the door enter the room where your roommate awaits. You don’t know much about him. When signing the forms, you overheard that having a companion was highly encouraged. They said some bland phrases to sell you on it, but you really just didn’t want to be alone. They said it was "to grow as an individual", and to “make connections”. But you’re not here for friends.

Well, it's your first day. Something deep inside you aches with regret seeing the room number. Shame fills you as you click open the door and step into the room: two twin sized beds, white sheets and white blankets. Two bedside tables, two lamps, one TV, a couple of outlets. The walls are a soft green accompanied by dark hardwood floors, creaking at you. Despite the purpose behind the room, it’s fairly pleasant.

And then you see your new roommate. You don’t know anything except for his name: Bojack Horseman. He sits atop his bed, watching the television. It’s playing some generic sitcom. He looks like he’s going through withdrawals as he sluggishly turns his head to you.

With a sigh, the horse man turns back to the TV.