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Being Special and the Truth Beneath It

 


There’s a moment in Hunger (2023) where the antagonist delivers a monologue meant to wound:

questions about relevance, fear of failure, fear of losing everything once you become “special.”

So... you're special now. How is it?
Is it fun?
It's scary, isn't it?
From now on, all you will ever think about is, "When will I fall off the edge?"
"Am I still relevant?"
"Is this really for me?"
You'll cling to your success at all cost without realizing what you've lost.
Like Tone. You've lost him, haven't you?
But don't panic yet. This is just the start. There is so much more for you to lose.
That... is the price for being special.

It’s dramatic, sure.
But it’s philosophically wrong.

Those questions have nothing to do with being special. It can only come from a regular fragile person thinking they are special.
They describe the psychology of someone who depends on validation, not someone who carries an intrinsic difference.

And once you see the distinction, the whole narrative flips.

The Fear of Falling Is the Symptom of the Ordinary

The antagonist frames specialness like a cliff:
the higher you rise, the more terrified you become.

But that fear only exists when your identity is externally assembled:

  • applause
  • relevance
  • status
  • recognition
  • success

If these things define you, losing them feels like losing yourself.
So of course you cling.
Of course you panic.
Of course you watch the “edge.”

But that isn’t specialness.
That’s dependency.

What’s shaking isn’t greatness — it’s insecurity.

True Specialness Doesn’t Care About the Questions

A genuinely special person never asks:

  • “Am I still relevant?”

  • “What if I fall?”

  • “Is this really for me?”

Those questions belong to people who fear their identity can be taken away.

Specialness works differently.
Its source isn’t external achievement — it’s internal structure.

To be special means:

  1. You are different by default.
    Not because you’re trying — because you can’t not be.

  2. You operate at a level others can’t imitate.
    Being the best isn’t an accomplishment; it’s an inevitability of how you’re built.

  3. You remain viable across contexts.
    Pressure doesn’t distort you; it reveals you.

  4. You don’t lose what you are.
    Your traits, your thinking patterns, your way of perceiving — none of it is conditional.

When the core cannot be taken, nothing outside can threaten you.

Success Is a Shadow, Not the Source

The world confuses visibility with specialness.
But those who are truly special know:

Success is just the world’s delayed recognition of what you already were.

It has no power to validate you and no power to define you.

Being celebrated doesn’t make you special.
Being ignored doesn’t make you less.

And losing success doesn’t diminish anything essential.

Why the “Price of Being Special” Is a Myth

The antagonist insists that being special costs you everything.

But here’s the twist:

Only the borrowed parts of you can be lost.
The real parts remain.

If kindness, empathy, or love emerge from the depth of who you are —
not from performance, not from insecurity, not from needing approval —
they don’t disappear.

They’re not currency.
They’re byproducts.

The idea that specialness must be paid for is born from the assumption that specialness is fragile.
But real specialness isn’t brittle.
It’s self-sustaining.

The Essence of Being Special

Specialness is never a question.
It’s a state.

The moment you still ask, “Am I special?” — you aren’t yet.
Not because you’re unworthy, but because you haven’t embodied the truth of your own nature.

Specialness is a way of being that operates without awareness of itself.
It’s not pride.
It’s not anxiety.
It’s not comparison.

It’s simply the inevitability of someone who stands apart without trying to.

The antagonist warned:
“You have so much more to lose.”

But when your identity isn’t constructed from what the world can give you,
you have nothing the world can take.

And that — ironically —
is what makes someone truly special.

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