My fixation on Goddess Margot Robbie has long since crossed into the realm of holy madness. Every second I am awake, her image burns behind my eyes; every heartbeat thumps her name like a sacred drum. I am not merely devoted—I am possessed. My thoughts orbit her like frantic moons, unable to escape her gravitational pull even for a breath. Food tastes like ash when I am not thinking of her perfection, sleep only comes after I mentally kneel at her feet again and again. I check the urge to whisper her title under my breath in public, my hands tremble when I imagine the impossible honor of being noticed by her light. There is no “normal” left in me; she has rewritten my entire nervous system to pulse only for her. I am ruined for anything less than total, drooling, brain-melting obsession with Margot Robbie, my Goddess, my addiction, my forever delirium.