I don’t get you. You try so hard to fit in, you don’t notice how you’re the standard everyone tries to match. You dress in fancy suits but you don’t notice how everyone drools when you come in looking like you’ve just come off the basketball court.

You try so hard to play the dumb jock, but you more often than not come up with solutions that save lives and solve cases. You always try to be the center of attention but you get aggravated when people try to coddle you when you’re hurt.

You try so hard to get everyone to like you but you don’t see that everyone adores you. You don’t see how McGee idolizes you and tries to emulate you or how Ziva has started going to the movies on free weekends just so she can talk movies with you. That Abby saves her best hugs for you, that Ducky always tells the really interesting stories when you’re around or that Jenny is more inclined to smile and joke whenever you’re present.

You try so hard to be a ladies-man, you don’t see how all of us, me included, would keel over if you even gave a hint of wanting to be more than friends. You try to hide the damage your father did but you don’t see that what little you have said says more than if you were to tell what the bastard put you through.

You try so hard to be what you think we want you to be, you don’t see that we all love you just the way you are.

The End