As students, we will inevitably submit hundreds of pages of our own writing to our professors. Because there is a grade at stake, we will meticulously comb over each and every word, craft our essays in a manner that makes us appear thoughtful and prepared about our subjects and feel confident about the pieces that we have submitted.

Or – as seems to be a growing trend in my life lately – we will add one more word found from Thesaurus.com to reach the minimum page limit, slap a bibliography together and send it off before the clock can strike midnight.

At that point, I will usually wonder if the person at the computer next to me cares that I am surrounded by empty Cheez Doodle bags from the night before. Regardless of the quality of my writing, I ignore that another human being will have to read it because it is for my grade.

Despite how nerve wracking those nights spent writing papers might have been, I have always loved writing as a form of self-expression. When I came to college, I made it a goal to contribute to the student newspaper or a magazine. I could not think of a better way to grow as a person than to hone my skills and share my voice with the community that I would spend the next four years in.

Fast forward a little: I am in my third year at the University of Scranton and have yet to ever write for a student publication… until now.

Because when it comes to my peers and the community at large reading my writing, it is a whole different ball-game. Suddenly, no matter how much effort I put into my piece, I am hyperaware of the possibilities that could result from someone who knows me but doesn’t really know me reading something that I wrote based on my own opinions. The thought of ever submitting prose, poetry or anything, left me absolutely petrified.

I wondered if it could be related to my self-confidence. Did I feel like what I had to say was a waste of anyone else’s time? I reflected upon how I have handled other times when I wanted to voice my thoughts -- I am outspoken, loud as can be, the first person to have her hand up in the air in class type of girl. Unlike most people, I did not have a fear of public speaking. I have a fear of public writing, and I had no idea why.

Maybe it is because words are permanent. Writing can be like getting a tattoo, the largest of commitments, forever there (or however long the Internet lasts anyway). Whatever I put out there will have my name on it and be a reminder of the time that I had those feelings and thoughts, even if I still do not believe them anymore. And worse, I fear that I might look back at them and notice an error and feel terror wash over me as I wonder how many other people had seen it, like some silly tattoo of an ex-boyfriend’s name.

Perhaps it was for the same reason that I had my Twitter set to private. I had always been informed that anyone and everyone could access your personal accounts unless you changed the privacy settings.

I had feared that my aunt would stumble upon my retweets of provocative lyrics or that a future employer would wonder why I tweeted so much about pizza. But unlike your professor, who is supposed to highlight your mistakes and inform you why you might have been wrong (in the best cases), this was different. My audience has no obligation to provide only constructive criticisms.

Ultimately, all of the reasons that I stated above probably have some truth in them. Perhaps what I may write could be flawed, silly at times or self-indulgent. There is a chance an audience could judge what I write. But what finally caused me to put all of that aside is the reason why I wanted to write in the first place: my voice.

If I continue to wonder what people will think of my ideas before I can even get them onto paper, they will never be read. I have to stop sweating whenever someone comes near my word processing screen, silently begging “Please don’t read this.” Because at the end of the day, this is my voice, these are my ideas and I have to be proud of what they are. I have to be open to the fact that someone may challenge them, define me by them or even admire me for them.

So, please, go ahead and thank you for reading.