my native tongue

they say writing is cathartic
                   -i'd agree

i don't know what it is about writing that is so releasing and satisfying. i've tried putting it into words but those words fail me every time.

wonderful
amazing
awesome
fantastic

just a few of my overused words in everyday language

i can't say much about words because i'm caught in the middle. my mother tongue being german, it is slowly slipping away from me like the darkness of the night which is being taken over by the oncoming dawn. except that in this case: the light that is coming does not bear good news. it is telling me that my heritage, my way of communicating, my entire system of speech is forgotten. like the warmth of the summer sun: first its disappearance goes unnoticed during our autumn months and then suddenly and violently, when you realize that we're almost in december.
you begin to cope. you adapt to life without the sun. heck, you embrace the darkness that comes quicker each day. you live with it. it becomes your new identity. not saying at all that english is a certain kind of darkness. i actually enjoy the dark, immensely. but a part of me wonders if summer will come again. i've grown to dislike the sun. darkness comes about easier.
it feels comfortable.
familiar.

i don't know if i will ever know the sun again as i have once known it. it may never be the same. i may never be able to fully embrace my native tongue again. it saddens me because it feels like i've shed a part of my identity and no one realizes how much it impacts me.

i don't speak with anyone that speaks my language. and when the rare occasion presents itself, i feel like a klutz. like a fraud. a counterfeit. not at all true to myself because i stumble over my words like one would stumble, running over a badly paved road. even as i'm writing these words, my mind is trying to translate them, like i have to prove something to myself. that these words are not true. that i'm not at all like i describe myself on this page. i almost have myself convinced that this paragraph is a lie when, once again, i stumble over my attempt to say this in german without pulling out the translator.

i guess i'm just scared that my language is just the start. that sooner or later, all my ties with my homeland will be cut.

i guess i'm just scared that, while gaining a wonderful home in canada, i've lost my other one in the process...