Suicide: You're doing it wrong.

That has to suck. Life's a bitch and so you decide to off yourself. In the end, you're such a fuck-up that you can't even do that right. What's even worse is when these people fuck up and manage to not only not kill themselves, but accidentally kill someone else. So is the case for a New Brunswick, NJ man who wound up killing a father of three.

A man who allegedly tried to commit suicide last year by plowing his car into another vehicle — killing the other driver — has been indicted on murder charges.

Steven Osadacz of Spotswood, who survived the crash, also was charged Friday with causing death by auto in the Nov. 10 crash in East Brunswick that killed 46-year-old Stephen Fagbewesa of Old Bridge.

Authorities have said Fagbewesa — a married father of three young children — was stopped at a three-way intersection when Osadacz's sport utility vehicle hit the driver's side of his car. They also say Osadacz — driving on a suspended license — had been drinking and was speeding.

Osadacz remains jailed $1 million bail. It wasn't known if he has retained a lawyer.
- Source

Way to go, moron. If you're going to kill yourself, buy a fucking gun. You can get them at Wal Mart. Can't afford that, then jump off a tall building. Can't stand heights, then take a bunch of pills.

Trying to kill yourself by crashing your car into something has to be dumbest fucking way possible to kill yourself. Maybe I need to do what Tender Branson did in Palahniuk's Survivor did and put up suicide prevention stickers with my number on it.

Tonight, a girl calls me from inside a pounding dance club. Her only words I can make out are "behind."

She says, "asshole."

She says what could be "muffin" or "nothing." The fact of the matter is you can't begin to fill in the blanks so I'm in the kitchen, alone and yelling to be heard over the dance mix wherever. She sounds young and worn out, so I ask if she'll trust me. Is she tired of hurting? I ask if there's only one way to end her pain, will she do it?

My goldfish is swimming around all excited inside the fishbowl on the fridge so I reach up and drop a Valium in its water.

I'm yelling at this girl: has she had enough?

I'm yelling: I'm not going to stand here and listen to her complain.

To stand here and try to fix her life is just a big waste of time. People don't want their lives fixed. Nobody wants their problems solved. Their dramas. Their distractions. Their stories resolved. Their messes cleaned up. Because what would they have left? Just the big scary unknown.

Most people who call me already know what they want. Some want to die but are just looking for my permission. Some want to die and just need a little encouragement. A little push. Someone bent on suicide won't have much sense of humor left. One wrong word, and they're an obituary the next week. Most of the calls I get, I'm only half listening anyway. Most of the people, I decide who lives and who dies just by the tone of their voice.

This is getting nowhere with the girl at the dance club so I tell her, Kill yourself.

She's saying, "What?"

Kill yourself.

She's saying, "What?"

Try barbiturates and alcohol with your head inside a dry cleaning bag.

She says, "What?"

You cannot bread a veal cutlet and do a good job with only one hand so I tell her, now or never. Pull the trigger or don't. I'm with her right now. She's not going to die alone, but I don't have all night.
- Source