I’ve felt the weight of broken men against my chest. I’ve watched as they cried until they had nothing left, collapsing into my arms and letting me guide them into a rocky slumber. I’ve steadied the shaking hands of terrified children. They were small, but the fear in their eyes was big, and it threatened to swallow us both whole. I let my heart break in silence, doing my best to give those kids every ounce of my warmth, never letting my smile waver, because that was all I could do for them. I’ve touched the bruised faces of women who did nothing wrong. I’m only trying to help them, to clean their wounds, but it’s hard, because no matter how slowly I raise my arms, I can see their spines clinch, their eyes narrow, and even the weight of the air around us becomes a mass of chains, so I can never have a delicate enough touch to give these women even a moment of peace. And I’ve watched my own life collapse from the pressure of wanting to only save others. I knew where I was heading, but I was determined to save them, at least one of them. If I could save even one of them, I could have saved myself… I know I could have done it, I just needed that proof… but maybe that’s why I couldn’t do a damn thing for any of them, because I was never sincere. I wanted to save them, but only for my own selfish reasons. So of course I couldn’t help them. So of course I’m still breaking. It all makes perfect sense. In the end, it was all for nothing. Everything I did was for absolutely fucking nothing. I should have known better… I shouldn’t have fucking bothered… I should have trusted in my own judgement and saved myself this pain… I should just fucking die.
“Heroes come in all shapes and sizes. Most will fight to selflessly serve others, but there are also heroes who only help others because they think that will somehow save themselves.”
That little light from your lampshade 
You have a kind heart. That is rare, especially today. There is no reason to feel hopeless for something that many are willing to reject, for the replacement of selfishness. To love the self is a comforting, but basic thing. It does not involve any risk. To be selfish, is to never be heroic. Love makes us heroic. It makes us immortal. It fills us with strength that others can only dream of possessing. I know that even the most selfish, who continually reject outside help, and who are fearful of betrayal, still want that comforting hand to comfort them in their most trying times.
The world is filled with people who only want to take you down, but there are those who will lift you up. It seems as though you are one of the latter, of those who are willing to lift people up.
But to think on it this way: are you lifting too much? Do your shoulders ache because you strain yourself in carrying more than you are able? Are you pushing yourself, when you shouldn’t be doing such a thing? That’s what you should be asking yourself. Don’t give up on such a task that involves helping others.
The real savior does not save. The savior guides. He or she leads, and does not do the work for the people he or she is aiding. Saviors do not save people. They show people the way, so that they can be saviors of their own.
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