One That Went a Bit More In Depth, But Mostly Stream of Consciousness

"Why do you do this?", he asked. "Why are you so hell-bent on destroying everything, why do you live to see your life in flames?"

"I don't know," she said.

"Are you scared?"

"No."

"Who the hell fucked you out so bad that you feel the need to destroy good things. You can't ever leave things alone. Maybe you think you don't deserve happy things. Maybe you're just that damn scared of getting hurt. So fucking fearful that you can't even begin to accept a relationship with anyone without attempting to self-destruct. Did he do this to you? Did he fuck you up so bad that no one will ever be able to reach you again? Do you hate yourself? Because you don't hate me."

"Maybe no one cares enough to try. No single human being will ever again care enough to put in that type of effort. People want efficient and people want easy. If you're difficult, if you're not open enough, talkative enough, quiet enough, happy enough, all of a sudden, you're not good enough. People are willing to put in enough effort to give themselves an A+, to get a high from trying to save you. They want a little bit of effort and then a lot of cracking. Well, I can't crack, not for you, not for me, not for anybody. I cracked once, just the once, and I don't think I was ever quite whole again. There are so many things inside of me so completely broken, and I'm not entirely sure there will ever be any way to fix me. I self-destruct and ruin because I know no other way. I don't know how to put faith in a person, to believe them without doubt, to trust their ability to stay. People are fickle, never a sure thing, unless that sure thing is the complete and total capacity to fuck you up."