As an archetypical teenager, texting isn’t my strong suit.

The prototype of “all teenagers do is text, they never talk face to face” is overused and fabricated. While some people may be more comfortable with the components of the internet, I find interacting face-to-face to be preferable.

All I want is to get my fingers off that miniature keyboard and meet with the person instead. I desperately need to have a verbal conversation with my close friends rather than sitting behind a screen while communicating with them. 

There’s just something about the phone screen that makes me bereaved. I sense that I can’t get my point across the way I long to over a text message, as it’s difficult for that person to see the emotion that I’m trying to portray. One message sent may come across as selfish and tight-fisted when it is really meant to be sarcastic. Their response returns as a shocking wave. The message meant to be sweet comes across as disappointing.   

Using emojis to express affection to one another is not as authentic as vocalizing with each other. Emojis can be my way of getting an idea or perception across to the person I’m talking to, but they can also be confusing in a way. When emojis are used, I can see the person’s face animating to replicate the emoji used; it helps me authorize the tone of whomever I may be speaking to. There’s always a way that I can accept the inflection of how they proceed with their voice talking as I stare at the small faces on my phone screen. 

Texting can be the root of anxiety, leading to a path that I don’t want to walk down. Waiting for that single response leaves anxiety that lingers for hours, and the worry starts sweeping across my brain. In-person, communicating with another, I get the answer without delay. Yet, commonly on a screen, there’s a distinct setback on responses. The wait on the feedback from the first text I sent causes me to lose patience. Sitting and awaiting the needed response gives me stress until I hear the familiar chime that my phone gives off.  

Quickly picking up the phone, I read the message that has been sent back to me. The tone of the text sounds bothered and slightly annoyed. Reading this makes me concerned that the person who I’m texting could be irked by my text—leading me to overthink. I tend to question myself: Should I ask if they are mad? Was I wrong for what I said? Regardless of these pondering questions, I consider the possibility that I’ll disturb them more. 

Texting is just an argument between myself and my thoughts. I’d much rather be in the position of face-to-face contact with an immediate response showing emotion. I want to feel what that person is feeling, and occasionally, I just want a hug.