Occasionally I imagine that I am fluent in several languages. It’s not without some basis in fact: Over the years, I have studied French, Russian, Latin, German and Spanish.
“Some basis in fact,” however, does not mean “reality.”
The fact is, when I try to speak a language other than standard Northern Indiana English (such as it is), I become tongue-tied. Or, considering the number of languages involved, tongues-tied.
French, for example. I took French for three years in school. What do I remember? I remember not liking French, for one thing. I remember that I had to introduce myself by saying “Je m’appelle Marcel” because my real French name, Michel, was already taken by another classmate, also named Mike.