Mar 25
Sometimes the lies you tell are less frightening than the loneliness you might feel if you stopped telling them.
Brock Clarke, An Arsonist's Guide to Writers' Homes in New England, 2007
Tony DiNozzo could not remember the last day he had not lied.
He was an accomplished liar, both to himself and to others. He lied with the masks he wore every day to hide his true emotions. Such emotions were a weakness, a luxury only others could afford. It was better to hide them, to hide himself.
The real Tony DiNozzo was damaged, broken beyond repair. His true face was full of fear and self-loathing; why did anyone give a damn about him? He was worthless, just someone who took up space and caused other people no end of trouble.
He didn't know how to love anyone. Sure, he pretended he did and he dated a lot of beautiful women, but he couldn't manage anything longer than a month (and the one time he did had ended in complete disaster). His 'friends' had a habit of running in the other direction the moment he let down his guard.
He didn't know how to be a friend, so he annoyed them until they ran away screaming. It became a game for him – how long would the next one last? He teased his subordinates and aggravated his superiors, simply because that was the way the world worked.
One day, Tony DiNozzo met Ziva David. And then he had decided it was okay to be truthful at times.