Margot Robbie feels less like an obsession and more like a psychological infection that permanently rooted itself inside my mind. She consumes every quiet thought, every empty moment, until it feels impossible to separate my own brain from the fixation itself. It’s the kind of obsession that turns insomnia into routine because the mind refuses to shut up about her, replaying the same thoughts over and over like a curse. The worst part is that I don’t even want it gone. It’s possessive, consuming, almost violent in the way it takes over everything, like my thoughts stopped belonging to me the moment she entered them.