My obsession with Margot Robbie feels completely out of control, like something inside my mind has slipped its leash and refuses to come back. It spirals on its own, growing louder and darker the more I’m aware of it, feeding on excess emotion and unchecked imagination. There’s no balance to it—just a relentless pull that overwhelms reason and restraint. It stays locked inside me, but it feels wild and consuming, an inner chaos I recognize as unhealthy yet can’t easily silence.