There’s something brilliant about six word memoirs. Paring an experience down to its simplest element can be cathartic, forcing you to shave off all the messy emotions and perceptions that calcify around your memory of What Actually Happened. So when I heard about the first anthology of six word memoirs, I thought it was a fantastic concept. And I was right.
Now there’s a new installment out in bookstores, Six Word Memoirs on Love and Heartbreak. Needless to say, it’s all about relationships, and I’ve got an entry in there.
Deciding what to write was a battle, to put it mildly. Encapsulating five years, a few dozen blog posts, and around a grand worth of vodka tonics in six words required some serious carving away of emotional fat. I went through plenty of options, including:
• We never could eliminate the bullshit.
• Inertia isn’t the same as happiness.
• I knew myself…within your parameters.
• Feminism never mentioned all this crap.
Or even the cryptic but remarkably accurate:
• I can’t believe I didn’t know.
But in the end, when you wring out all the stories and meanings and significance and blame, there’s really just what happened:
• Moved in. No ring. Moved out.
.
Share:
