We’ve all hit send on an email prematurely without checking for misspellings and grammatical mistakes. What do you do? For most of us, we simply blush and move on, because, hey, it’s not the end of the world. However, those who overlook a detail or two in their suicide note forever risk being attached with the stigma of not understanding rudimentary English grammar rules.

The grammatical errors in these suicide notes may have cost the recently deceased everything in the way of credibility.

“…Sometimes I think she really should have married Tim, not me. He was the guy that really set her world afire.”

One of my biggest pet peeves: saying “that” when you really mean “who.” If the writer of this letter hadn’t made holes of Tim’s eyes in an old yearbook photo before emptying seven rounds into his wife and turning the gun on himself, I would have told him “who” is the pronoun one uses in reference to people, as “that” is reserved for objects. Although, to be fair, there is a long list of literary examples using “that” as a relative pronoun.

If the coroner wasn’t currently taping off the distance between the gun on the floor and the recently deceased’s hand, I would recommend simply writing for your audience — though when in doubt, always use “who” when referencing a human being.

“…Hoping to win favor, dad was overall unimpressed with the white wine clam linguini, asking me to repay his loan for culinary school.”

There was something in the way this author was swinging back and forth on the rope tied to the ceiling fan that just screamed: DANGLING MODIFIER! The fevered defiance in his final act of life was much more clear than the first clause of that sentence.

I’m assuming by the amount of time he spent Googling “how to tie a perfect noose,” it was he who was trying to win favor with his dad. The real tragedy is that we’ll never know.

“…Turning 17 was the worst thing that ever happened to me. Everyone says 18 is better, brighter, and happier. I guess I’ll never know.”

This is what we call in the copy-writing business an incomplete comparison. I would edit it as: “Everyone says 18 is better, brighter, and happier when your birthday isn’t drawn, and before you know it, you’re red hot in the LZ in Cambodia dropping from a helicopter,” but the body of this author was found by her parents after accidentally ingesting more aspirin than her cry for help required.

“…I envy the man who doesn’t know he is trapped. But neither can he hear the whisper of the song, the Great Commands of the Head of the Horse Eye; for truly, if he knew, man would celebrate his soul’s attainable freedom. The pupils of the Sky Stallion are strong and loving, and I was lucky He chose me to release the souls of man. I am nothing but a lowly warrior, so I hope society can see in my cleansing the Great Truth of Freedom. They will learn to see through the Eyes of Rulthmentun, through the prison of pain mortal life afflicts onto them. I ask not for gratefulness, because as free souls, we leave all the pettiness of human nature behind. Rulthmentun is merciful and accepting. All of man’s flaws melt away in the fire cyclone of His presence. I am ready. How happy I am for the ones who come across me this Great Day!”

I have no complaints with this one. This writer sacrificed zero credibility or ethos before buying twelve hundred .223 rounds off the Internet and breaking the record for most casualties in a workplace shooting.