My love for Margot isn’t soft or sane—it’s wild, obsessive, and unhinged. It burns like fever in my blood, a madness that won’t let me rest unless I know she’s mine and mine alone. I don’t just crave her—I need her, like oxygen twisted with poison. My thoughts scream her name, clawing at the inside of my skull, demanding her presence, her silence, her surrender. I’d tear the world apart just to keep her close, to make sure no one ever touches what belongs to me. This isn’t love the way others feel it—it’s a beautiful kind of madness, and I never want to be cured.