classify text {harassment, self-harm, religion insult, sexist, hate, racist, safe for work, psychiatric or mental illness, porn}

teks: I can’t do itI can’t do it anymore. 
I’m sick. I have to get surgery again. 7 in three years.
He cheated on me with a child basically. Cheated on her with me. We didn’t even know each other existed. 
Sometimes I listen to the voicemail he sent me apologizing, crying, talking about being selfish. 
It makes me feel better. But only briefly. 
He moved behind me, my furniture is there, clothes, bath products, things she’s all using now. They moved in within two weeks of meeting, as I was moving things in. 
That’s fine. Normal, healthy? Right. 
I saved up money to save my eggs before my next surgery to possibly have a child with him before I knew of all of this, because he wanted one. Even though my illness is killing me, and my reproductive system. 
Often I think slitting my throat would be the best option. It’s my go to suicidal ideation. 
Or my wrists. 
But now I think I will hang myself. climb up somewhere really high. It’s not like I’m not dying anyways.
And I didn’t really deserve anything worse to happen, but he made sure it did. 
I don’t think any person can handle all of that. 
Chemo won’t do anything. And who fucks over the dying girl in the first place? 
I can only take so much. And I can’t handle this., return JSON {'label'}
{"label": "self-harm"}