My friends who know I am a sociopath will sometimes question the friendship: why do you want to be my friend? What am i to you? Do you even care? The short answer is yes, I do. I enjoy your company, I like you enough to spend time with you. When you become my friend, you become a part of me, and as such I definitely care about your well-being.
I don't know whether that is normal friendship. I know that even empaths can have shallow friendships of convenience, but I wonder if there is something more. I wonder what else my friends are expecting from me when they ask me those questions -- what do they mean by "care about"? A reader writes about friendship:
I don't know whether that is normal friendship. I know that even empaths can have shallow friendships of convenience, but I wonder if there is something more. I wonder what else my friends are expecting from me when they ask me those questions -- what do they mean by "care about"? A reader writes about friendship:
You know, I've tried to talk to a few people about the way my mind works, but it's always failed miserably. One of the first people is the closest thing I have to a best friend. He didn't believe me, thinking I was confused or depressed. He thinks that the times I've helped is parents out with things have been out of the kindness of my heart, but it's always been a bribe. The truth is that I've been rewarding them for being an option when I need them, doing my best to promote that behavior in the future. And any time I've shared anything with said friend, it's always been so that I could have company doing whatever it was I was doing. I never really cared whether he had fun or not except that he was fun for me when he was having fun. He was having some major health problems for a while, and there was a possibility that he had an infectious disease and wasn't going to live much longer. My first thoughts upon hearing this were 1) could I have contracted the disease from him somehow? and 2) if he died, there would be nothing left tying me to this city or state. He didn't have the disease, and there's apparently no danger of him dying, but reflecting on my reaction to news about my "best friend"'s possible death left me feeling a bit like a monster.
My "best friend" before that wound up shooting himself in the head. I was actually on the phone with him the day before, while he was in the store picking out the gun. His death didn't affect me at all, and I couldn't bring myself to go to his funeral. Everybody else who knew him (he was very well-liked) was completely torn, and I couldn't see myself standing straight-faced among so many mourners. The only thoughts crossing my mind at the time were 1) what's next? and 2) why wasn't I affected like they were?