When I was in sixth grade, “everyone in my class had a phone.” That was my lie. The worst lie I ever told. Only a few people in my class had phones. I really wanted one. I had my first ever friend group and they all had phones, so naturally, I wanted to text them “Lol” and “Wyd” or really just “omg.” Years later, I still type those shortcuts with many others. It isn’t as exciting as it seems.
I know telling my parents that everyone had a phone doesn’t seem like a big lie. In the big scheme of things, I was going to get a phone eventually. “Eventually” to me, at the time, meant a few years feeling like a few decades. I was sure that everyone was going to get a phone in the next few months anyways, so it really was just a bluff. I wrote a letter to my parents explaining how greatly I would appreciate a phone for my birthday. I would be hanging out with my friends and I could text them a time to pick me up. I could text them that I love them all the time. Everyone in my class had a phone. They were the worst parents ever if they didn’t get me a phone too.
For my birthday, I got a phone. To be specific, it was an iPhone 4. My parents gave me one rule: don’t do anything on here that you wouldn’t do with me watching, as if they had known that I would need that reminder. To me, I felt like I was carrying around the future in my little backpack. I was ecstatic and had never felt so grown up. I knew I was lucky, but more than that, I knew that this was making me the happiest sixth grader around. I saw video games, Instagram, and Snapchat as suggestions in the app store. I downloaded them. I saw birds flying to knock over buildings in a game called Angry Birds and houses to be built in a game called Minecraft. I would scroll Instagram to see models and influencers display fake life. I saw exercise videos and ways to get slimmer if you are a female, ways to be more muscular if you are a male.
The repercussions of the lie didn’t sink in until I got social media. I then realized why someone in sixth grade isn’t meant to have a phone. My dad used to tell me often, “You are only a kid for this long,” as he would show me an inch with his fingers then say, “you are an adult for this long,” as he would spread his arms out as wide 10
as he could before telling me, “Enjoy where you are. You are lucky to be a kid.” I should’ve listened. Maybe I wouldn’t have gotten social media if I had waited. Maybe I wouldn’t have anxiety. Maybe I wouldn’t be addicted to a screen. Maybe I would be able to fall asleep sooner, or eat more, or not feel the pressure of working out. Maybe it would’ve stopped me from having anxiety and OCD. Maybe I would be the best version of myself I could be.
My parents snooped on my phone a few times. To be honest, I knew they were doing it.
However, the knowledge didn’t make me any less angry. They found my Instagram and Snapchat. They knew there were things I wasn’t telling them, like how I had a sixth grade boyfriend, or how I would text my friends how annoying my parents were for not letting me have a sleepover on a weekday. They knew this would happen. They were hoping to be wrong about their smart, sweet, innocent little girl. Everyone, in my opinion, seems smart, sweet and innocent until they start on their phones, iPads, and computers.
Because I lied, because I told the worst lie ever, I will never get back those last few years of my childhood on a phone texting and scrolling on social media. Honestly, this was a gateway lie. Getting the phone was the beginning. The following lies of “I don’t have social media, what are you talking about?” and “I’m okay, don’t worry about me” were the lies that continued to get worse. Revealing that everyone had a phone when that wasn’t indeed true was the gateway to the rest and that is what makes it what I consider the worst lie ever told. It is one that continues to be told by not only sixth graders, but third, fourth, and fifth graders as well now. I hope they don’t feel the same repercussions that I did. I know that they will.
I longed for a phone to bring me closer to my friends and family, as well as the world. I could text friends, like their photos on Instagram, and see their faces on Snapchat. I could text my family I love them and give them updates on my location. I could meet new people and follow their journey. Instead, I found that having a phone pulled me further apart from the world. People hide behind their phones. Nothing is real on social media, but when you are a little girl who is just starting to see her image as important, you don’t realize that. I fought with my friends about who liked what picture and who was posting which friend and not the other. I felt excluded. I no longer wanted anything to do with family game night, either. Instead, I wanted to Facetime with my friends. I would text my mom what dinner was that night from upstairs while texting my dad that I needed his help with my math homework when he was in the other room. My phone pulled me apart from my family, friends, and the world. It is funny how intentions of something great like bringing me together with people can lead to the downfall of pulling me further apart.