Resistance is Futile

I lie here, all alone, as it builds up inside me, denser, taller, faster.
The blade glitters, and temptation calls to me.
But no, I must resist.

My hand crawls towards fate, slowly and carefully signing my destiny.
But no, I must resist.

My fingers curl around its sharp edge, lifting it slightly, and his voice echoes through my mind.
But no, I must resist.

The Oath swirls through me, my forced promise to him; "I'll stay alive for you, only you." My fingers tighten.
But no, I must resist.

Memories caress me gently, probing my common sense, dancing with my self-control. The blade sweeps toward my wrist in one, fluid movement.
But no, I must resist.

Numbness taunts me, calling my name softly, fluttering out of my reach as I lunge for it. A sharp edge presses into my hope.
But no, I must resist.

His face appears in my mind, smiles, and vanishes. The blade draws its sorrow over the inside of my arm, etching his laugh into my skin.
But no, I must resist.

My promises flow onto the floor with my life, as my mangled arm lifts the blade and deals its burdens onto its sister.
But no, I must resist.

The blade drops to the floor as my strength slowly dissipates. I close my eyes and say my apologies to him, pray that one day he will forgive me.
But no, I must resist...

I lie as still as a dead man, the knowledge of what I have done pressing into me, my life being forced out of me through his smile, patterned onto my wrist.
I close my eyes.
Resistance is Futile.

Photo is me. Comments?