"Let’s meet up on strawberry"

I am losing my mother tongue. 

I had been in denial for a week, blaming my poor sentence structure and obsessive rereading a result of indulging in too much Ulysses. Then yesterday, I said “strawberry” instead of “Saturday”. Saying “strawberry” was the straw-breaking moment when I realized that my brain is not programmed for mastering two languages; it can only either master one or half-ass both. Thinking back over the past week, I realized that I had started speaking my English with a slight French accent to English-speaking French people because it was easier for them to understand. My mother tongue leaving me is obviously punishment for the betrayal. Now not only am I panicking about losing my flair for language, but neither my English nor my French sound proper anymore. 

I think I am going to start keeping my mouth shut. 

*20 minutes later: I just wrote rainbows instead of rain boots in a list of things to purchase.