As it so wearily happens every morning, I woke up. The sun had passed me by, coming up the sides of the distant mountains before I could soak myself in night’s last vestiges; in other words, I purposefully woke up late. Fog rolled over the bluish-green mist on Irish foothills. Remnants of last night’s fight echoed through the monolithic clouds, through the distant fiddle melodies and acoustic guitar. Though I normally avoid my monstrous reflection in any mirror, I indulged myself on this particular morning as I went to brush my teeth. It wasn’t a stranger, as it normally is. No, I knew him. But it wasn’t me, just a nameless friend. Let’s call him Bobby.

I realized at this moment that I had been lugging Bobby around with me for a long time. Actually, most people probably know Bobby better than they know me. The creeping fog would’ve seen his countenance before knowing it was really me. I know she knows Bobby better. And don’t get me wrong, he’s a solid guy; he’s carried the entirety of my romance for the past five years on his shoulders. But he isn’t me.

Back to last night’s fight: I crafted my apology with Bobby in mind, knowing she’d realize he’s just a fictitious character at some point. Knowing that sweet-talk was one of my only ways out, I searched every corner of the landscape in front of me with some perfect hue to write with. Would I ascribe to her the pallid blue of the ambiguous fog, the faded lavender? No, the colors bled right off the page into an endless darkness as I wrote. It was all pointless — meaningless, no — but pointless. No amount of poetic nonsense could reverse the lies I had spun. So, I decided to formally introduce her to him.

This is Bobby. He lies supine, not a thought in his head. He goes to work, files every paper in the appropriate place, vainly compliments his total jackass of a boss, the mindless little drone he is. He’s the person you kiss, who you lie next to, who you laugh with. He’s the face that you greet every morning through the fog that rolls over the bluish-green mist on Irish foothills. But he’s not me, and I think it’s time for him to go. I’d leave him for you, if you want me to.

“Bobby” by Alex G is taken from Rocket, available May 19 through Domino Records.