One More Time Could Be the Last

In the movie 28 Days, Evelyn, a drug addiction counselor, speaks to patients after Andrea, one of the patients, fatally overdoses at the facility. With raw honesty, she says,

“…I feel scared. Because I’ve heard so many people here say, ‘I just wanna use one more time.’ Andrea’s one more time was what killed her.”

Cornell, another counselor, adds with stark clarity:

“She didn’t kill herself. She used. She overdosed.”

Those words hit hard because they show how thin the line can be between “one more” and “the last time.”

Recently, I was reminded of this in an unexpected way. I had just returned from a whirlwind trip to see my cousins,who live six hours away. During the drive, I listened to Matthew Perry’s memoir, Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing, where he chronicled his long, painful battle with alcoholism and drug addiction. He had been to rehab more than 60 times—a staggering number, revealing how relentless addiction can be. By the end of his book, Perry was clean. He had even given up cigarettes after years as a three pack-a-day smoker.

And yet, in the end, Matthew Perry’s story ended with the same haunting truth as Andrea’s. He died of a drug overdose. He didn’t set out to end his life. He simply used — one more time. And that one more time was one time too many.

Traveling, for me, brings its own temptations. Highways are lined with neon options at every exit. Burgers, tacos, pizza, ice cream—you don’t even have to leave your car. Just roll down the window, hand over a few dollars, and let comfort food take the wheel.

On this trip, I could have caved. I could have let exhaustion, convenience, or simple craving steer me into a drive-thru. But I didn’t. I resisted. Still, the battle was real. Because for me, overeating can carry the same weight as drugs or alcohol for someone else. It’s not about “just one burger” or “just order ofr fries.” Like the patients in 28 Days, my “one more time” could be the one that does me in.

The truth is sobering: food can heal, but it can also harm. My overeating may not look as dramatic as an overdose, but over time, it carries the same deadly potential. Heart disease. Diabetes. Stroke. These are just the slower, quieter versions of the same ending.

That’s why I think of Evelyn’s words. “Andrea’s one more time was what killed her.” My one more time might not kill me today, but the trajectory is the same.

And so, I choose differently. I choose life. I choose health. I choose hope. Even when the road is long and the neon signs glow like sirens calling me off course, I keep moving forward. Because every time I say no to “just one more,” I say yes to tomorrow—and that yes is worth everything.