Svigerfars Mareridt - Jeg er nybegynder

GRAND SLAM - Kellen De Vos

Six months. Six damned months in which I carried every little lie I told myself with a broad smile. "I feel so good!" I'd say, "No more smoking! What a liberation! I'm a new person!" And everyone nodded. My friends, my colleagues, even the guy from the bakery. They nodded and cheered me on like you'd cheer for a marathon runner who looked like he was about to throw up.

I'm lying. I don't feel good at all. I feel like a bucket of misery into which someone secretly stuffed a pile of wet newspapers. I'm not liberated, I've gone to jail. For six months now, I've been in nicotine quarantine, and my clothes no longer smell like an ashtray, but like... nothing. I'm not sleeping any better; I dream about cigarettes. Over and over again. About that first hit in the morning, that little nicotine rocket that catapults you into happiness. About the glowing end that looks like a small, timid light at the end of the tunnel.

I've gained over nine pounds. Nine pounds! In just six months! My belly now hangs over my belt like a sad pancake. My pants are tighter than the zipper on an overstuffed suitcase. I look like the Michelin Man who's had the air sucked out of him. And the dating experience? I wonder what my last date thought when I plopped down on the sofa like it were a mattress. She probably thought, "Oh, a new mattress trend."

At first, I thought I was a hero. I was lecturing smokers. I raised my fingers and said, "I can promise you, addiction is a killer." And then, secretly, I turned around and imagined myself opening a pack, lighting a cigarette, feeling the fire, taking a deep breath, and my brain exploding with joy. Like an orgasm, only better because it never ends.

And now I'm sitting here in a smoker’s bar. My buddy smokes. He smokes two packs a day. And I hate him for it. I hate him because he can do what I can't. I hate him because he feels the happiness I long for. I just told him to stop before it's too late. He just laughed and said, "Man, I'm the one having fun here, you're the one destroying yourself." And he's right. I'm a hermit, a sad, lonely recluse who made his own rules and now tortures himself. I've backed myself into a corner from which there's no escape. And the thought that I have to give up, that I could reach out and ask for a cigarette, is so tempting. Just a little puff. A little orgasm. Just a little bit of happiness.


Six months and not a single cigarette, you know
They said it would be easy, a hero's show
My clothes don't stink of ashtrays anymore
I sleep a little better, or so I swore
I talk to everyone about my brand new life
But deep inside, I'm cuttin' with a mental knife

Oh, nicotine, my sweet, sweet sin
Let me take you in, let me start again
One little puff, a glorious high
Oh, nicotine, my sweet goodbye

I told myself I'm free from all that poison's hold
A new beginning, a story to be told
But nine pounds heavier, my belt won't close
All the single ladies now turn up their nose
I used to hate the smell, but now I miss it, man
The little white stick that holds my world in its hand

Oh, nicotine, my sweet, sweet sin
Let me take you in, let me start again
One little puff, a glorious high
Oh, nicotine, my sweet goodbye

They say I'm strong, a man of pure resolve’
They praise my strength while my own life dissolves
But what's the point of smelling fresh and clean
If you can't find a partner, so fat and mean?
I see my friends all puffing, laughing at my face
I feel like a loser lost in time and space

Oh, nicotine, my sweet, sweet sin 
Let me take you in, it's a hello again 
One little puff, a glorious high 
It's not a goodbye, just a sweet hello. Again.

—
Arrangement and vocals: Volker Redder, Udio, GarageBand
Loops and samples: Volker Redder, GarageBand
Editing and sound design: Volker Redder, Ozone 11, Sound Studio, GarageBand
Lyrics: Volker Redder, translated with the help of Google Translate
Cover design: Volker Redder, Photoshop, DALL-E 3

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