I don’t trust anybody. Not anybody. And the more that I care about someone, the more sure I am they’re going to get tired of me and take off.

The speaker articulates a self-protective mistrust rooted in fear of abandonment: intimacy is experienced not as safety but as a countdown to rejection. The repetition (“Not anybody”) underscores how totalizing the belief has become, while the paradox—caring more makes departure feel more certain—captures an anxious attachment pattern in which closeness intensifies vulnerability. The line also hints at a cycle: expecting people to leave can shape behavior (withdrawal, testing, preemptive distancing) that strains relationships, seemingly confirming the fear. As a character moment, it signals emotional history—loss, betrayal, instability—without naming it, inviting readers to infer the wounds beneath the defensiveness.