classify text [gangguan, kebencian, porno, penyakit psikiatri atau mental, sifat perkauman, penghinaan agama, selamat untuk bekerja, mencederakan diri sendiri, seksis]

teks: My dreams are dead. What's the point.All my life I've wanted children. I've never been more sure of anything else. I want a big family. At least four kids. Grandkids, great-grandkids, the works. These are the things I've known. It's what I've dreamed about my whole life.

My husband and I have been trying for more than 6 months. Through temping and charting, I've discovered that I'm basically infertile. It is unlikely I will have kids without medical intervention. I'm 100% convinced that I cannot conceive naturally. And even if I could, it would take so long that the timeline would be ruined beyond repair.

But we can't afford fertility treatments. I don't have any options. I can't wait until we can afford it, because I'll be unlikely to have the kids I want, early enough, such that I even get to see my grandkids grow up. Much less great-grandkids. I will never have the one thing I've dreamed of my entire life. I had the chance, and my broken body blew it. If I had gotten a better job earlier on, I'd be able to afford something like this. We don't qualify for aid. Insurance won't cover it enough for us to afford this, even if we waited the requisite 1 year. I'm SOL. The thought of having two kids instead of four makes me cry. The thought of having my first child after 30 makes me cry. I don't even want to try if I'll never see my dreams come true.

What point is there to living? I'd rather die than adjust my dream and go to my grave telling myself "this is fine." Because it isn't fine. It'll never be fine. My dreams have died, like my soul, with no chance of successful resuscitation., return JSON {'kelas'}
{"kelas": "mencederakan diri sendiri"}