The Worst Person In The World

By Jessica Pritchard

when he told me i was the worst person in the world

i took the string of words and hung them around my neck

for many years 

the holy grail of words 

the talisman of hatred in words

and yet the only six words i ever respected

i have lived nine lives since

i am a visual person

i catch the sun between my index and thumb 

i hold it

i have pink hair and i study photography 

i have a thirty-year-old man in my bed tell me 

you still need to find yourself young one 

as if i never knew before 

and 

i could be your dad you know

which is funny

cause i don’t have one 

i switch

the mighty oak

older this time

black hair, a journalist 

i take planes to the middle east and don’t eat bread

i look fucking good and i’m fucking good

i am an army medic

a violinist

a cleaner who smokes

an escort

a farmer in the country

a student

and then myself, at last,

i look up and realise the world is either so dull, or full

depends where you’re looking 

i wonder if mediocrity is worth it all 

staring at walls and newspapers and laptop screens

a life on repeat

there are too many ill-spirited people in the world

who so quick become dull

mum and i were two single women living in the womb of sacred space 

but when i left home we changed the way we spoke to each other

i am waiting for something 

something

i am an addict of new of fresh of sexy

so i switch

nine times

nine lives

the worst person in the world 

the worst person in the world 

the worst person in the world 

the worst person in the world

the worst person in the world 

the worst person in the world

the worst person in the world 

the worst person in the world

the worst person in the world