Why do I ever let myself be persuaded that my voice isn't valid?

It is true, my voice is hidden. I do not want to say what I know. Isn't that interesting? All of my life I have wanted to be a writer, and now that my time is free for it, I hedge—I don't want to say what I know because it wouldn't be pleasing, perhaps, it would sound too much like nagging, like criticizing God for not getting it right.

I don't want to nag this world.