Pieces of Me

I recently decided to make a Butterfly Project group, because the one I joined was deleted by the asshole head admin. I'm NOT an admin, I'm a mod, I just run quality control and weed out the things like reposts, trolls, and inappropriate/triggering posts. But whenever someone needs help, I feel like I have to help them out. Seeing the posts makes me feel like I have to, even though it'll take a piece of myself to do it - and I can't help but think that it'll go to waste. I have no more to give, and the pieces of myself that go to some of these people get left behind and forgotten after a couple hours, they cease to mean anything.

I honestly thought I was over this saviour complex bullshit, but apparently not. I can't save these people. I can't even get up some days. I hate how obligated I feel. I don't know what to do, it hurts to ignore them. I'm still not self harming but damn I'm close to a relapse. I want to see the cuts and scars, I see them as beautiful for some warped reason. I want my arms to be striped with these scars, so my outside can match my inside. My arms would be so fucking beautiful with the scars. But I know I can't, I can't do that to everyone else. When I see pictures of people with scars, they're beautiful to me, but I'm disgusted by the gaping wounds, and I know I'd get to that point quickly. I'm sick. I'm fucking sick, and I know it, and I can't stop it. I need help :/