The nurse is telling me it’s August 7, and I don’t believe her.

“What are you talking about? It’s like … March.”

We’re going back and forth — kind of arguing, but not really. I have a headache and I don’t know why. I also don’t know why this nurse is checking me out in the first place. I don’t even know what hospital I’m at, or how I got to here.

But I know what day it is. It’s March 15. I had worked out that morning, then I went to my office in Houston and met up with my best friend, Malik, and my dad.