To all of the women I've been before by Hannah Ro

I am making friends with all of the women I've been before. Trying, really. I meet her all the time, all thousands of hers, one for each day I've been alive. There are times she'll jump out at me from an old song or a photograph stuck between the pages of a book. Remember me? She'll ask. There are days I pull her out slowly, watch patiently as she walks across the tightrope in my mind. Some days she haunts me. The me who was selfish, the me who was cruel, who made all the wrong choices. She'll pull out a lawn chair, refuse to leave. I'm trying to let her stay, trying to make space for her here, trying to build a home for all of the women I've ever been to live.