I see you’ve disregarded my first instruction. That was what I was hoping for. That was good journalism, if you ask me.

My high school English teacher once told me that writing makes you immortal. I never understood what she meant until now. Many people can’t say that their words will live far past their lifetime, but I am one of the lucky ones.

If I have learned anything from these past four incomprehensible, crazy, defeating, incredible years, it is that writing does in fact, make you immortal. I have been blessed with the opportunity to share my writing and my thoughts with the world through the Daily Collegian. And while I could go on and on about how important journalism is (it really is) and how people should use their voices to make positive change, I still don’t want you to read my senior column.

Don’t read my column, because you should write your own. It doesn’t have to be a column, and it definitely doesn’t have to be perfect. Don’t write because of an assignment, or because you have to. Your words have power, weight and impact. Even if your writing is just for yourself, do it. Write stories until your hands bleed. Write about the good times, the bad and leave room for margin notes. Write passionately, uncensored, loudly and don’t be afraid to make a ruckus. Writing makes you immortal.

Writing has been the greatest gift that I have ever been given, and it is a present that I get to reopen every day. The Collegian not only gave me a space to write and express my thoughts, but also something to write about. Without writing, how will I ever remember all of these good times that I am leaving behind? How will I remember game nights at Nathan’s, or News team lunches or dressing in ridiculous costumes with some of the most amazing and bright people I have ever met? How else would I get to remember sitting around the office with my buddies and arguing which one of us was the cutest baby? How else will I remember when I made Daniel drive my car through a thunderstorm with zero warning? Or when Johnny fell asleep on the same couch at least ten different times? Or when Asha and I had a photoshoot with my crappy digital camera on Halloween? Or all of us in the backseat of Manas’s rental car driving to see the Northern Lights? How else will I remember the hard times too, where we worked into the late hours of the night to make sure our news coverage was absolutely perfect? How will I remember when we were faced with difficult topics, rough interviews and cruel feedback?

The way I will remember is writing, and I will continue to write until my hands don’t work. And by then, hopefully there will be some sort of Artificial Intelligence that will write it for me. I will keep writing to remember these moments, and to create more. We all will die someday, but your words will never die. Your voice is meaningful and deserves to be recorded. Writing will make sure your voice is heard, even when you can no longer speak. Those crazy experiences, stories, hardships, heartbreaks and laughs will live on forever. Because writing makes you immortal.

So, don’t read my senior column. Write your own. I write because when I am old and cannot remember these four years, I will be able to read my writing — and I am lucky as hell that I got to do it with my best friends. I write for those who don’t have a voice, are afraid to use it and because I want to leave behind something that matters. My voice matters, and yours does too.

One day, when I am faced with mortality, I will read my writing—about these four years and everything else in between — and realize that these memories are immortal. My experiences, stories and hardships are immortal. And I will continue to read my writing and remember these stories. And hopefully I will get to read yours too.

Abby Joyce was an Assistant News Editor. She can be reached at [email protected].