Butchered tongue feels like that voice in the back of your head wondering if it’s safe every time you speak Irish
Butchered tongue feels like when you speak Irish and someone looks at you expecting a translation for the language that’s forever the beating soul of their own country
Butchered tongue feels like crossing the border and not seeing the Irish langauge signs anymore
Butchered tongue feels like trying everything to pull back as much of your culture as possible and never feeling like it’s enough
Butchered tongue feels like the guilt for not doing enough to save the language every time you look at Irish history and realise what people did to save it so you could speak it
Butchered tongue feels like every single time someone mocks Irish in front of you and looks surprised that you call them out on it
Butchered tongue feels like the anger every time you struggle in Irish because it should come so easy to you
Butchered tongue feels like the disgust every time you have to speak English because you don’t know the Irish for it
