A Six-Word Memoir® is the story of your life—some part of it or all of it—told in exactly six words.

In classrooms and boardrooms, churches and synagogues, veteran's groups and across the dinner table, Six-Word Memoirs have become a powerful tool to catalyze conversation, spark imagination or simply break the ice.

Here on Six Words, we offer a simple platform to share the short, sharp story of your life, as well as provide daily prompts to share your six-word takes on the topics of our times.

More than half a million short stories have been shared here. Read more about six.

So give six a try—and make your words count.


Six Word Memoirs
Social Buttons Facebook Twitter Tumblr Pinterest YouTube


I couldn't have come from her.

by jennyb on May 10, 2009   |  FacebooktwitterTumblr

I am the total opposite of my mother. She is very selfish, not very smart, and she is a drunk. I could never treat my kids the way she treated my brother and I. She didn't deserve to be able to have children, and she never really wanted us, just the welfare benefits that having us gave her. She never taught me anything about being a woman, a good person, or a mother, other than by leading by example, as if to say, "this is what you SHOULDN'T do". She is an embarassment to me, and I hate that I came into this world through her. I do everything for her, even though she deserves nothing from me, because i feel obligated. It makes no sense. She certainly never felt obligated to protect me from my abusive stepfather. She just let him do whatever he wanted to, because as long as he was happy, she was happy, and if ruining my childhood was what it took to make him happy, then she felt that MY childhood was her gift to him. It makes me sick to even look at her most of the time. My brother treats her horribly, and she always calls to complain to me about it. I know why he treats her so bad, but she sees no wrong in what she did to us, she is in denial. She will admit that she could have done a better job, but she won't ever admit to how bad it really was. She tries to take credit for my accomplishments, beaming about how well she raised me. Please. I raised myself. She was too busy having very loud, obvious sex in the middle of the afternoon to worry about her kids. She would send us out in the winter dragging a huge garbage bag full of bottles to the store to return and bring her back pop or cigarettes with.(you didn't have to be 18 to buy them at that time). She sent me to school when I was in kindergarten, telling me to "just try to find my way", because she wasn't willing to get her fat, lazy, welfare receiving ass out of bed and drive me. I could go on forever. I just cannot believe I came from her. I used to fantasize that I was adopted, and had a real mother out there somewhere.


Six Word Memoirs Logo
Powered by Smith Magazine