This (from German postsecret) really scares me sometimes. Not that I'm actually at the stage where it could happen, but just that I find myself thinking in German without intending to, or I only know the German word to describe a particular moment, and half of me is pleased and half of me is afraid. Every time I think about this it reminds me of a poem we had to read when I was at school: (particularly the second part)

( Search for My Tongue by Sujata Bhatt )