Thinking Not Acting

~~He thought he would die alone and deduced from this that he had always been alone, even when he was born; his mother had been a mere carrier and deliverer of his being.  An objective event in his otherwise subjective life. His superficial reading of Sartre had left him unable to determine whether exixtentialism meant anything other than what he deemed it to mean. Hence his inner life was his real life.   He had always assumed his presence and existence were not a part off  the various social encounters he had entered and exited throughout a fundamentally meaningless existence. Consequently he regarded himself as a consummate performer of roles; an actor who could move between extreme acts of cruelty and amazing generosity. He was devoid of human emotions and this was the source of considerable anxiety and the inner hurt he had experienced all of his life. To the outward eye however he could be exciting, humerous and charismatic; attributions he put down to his acting prowess rather than an inherent charisma. He wondered if that was all charisma really was when it was deemed to be present in historical figures by the masses.  Mandela, Churchill, Kennedy, Castro had all been actors playing a role and perhaps their extraordinary charisma arose from them  not meeting the expectations of others but from contradicting those expectations and selling a vision to their publics.
Today however he was thinking about the past and reflecting on his disappointment with himself when he was hit with the flash that perhaps his view of life could be re interpreted if he could challenge himself to re-interpret events differently. The problem for him at that moment however was that he was standing in a room with a mask over his face and a gun in his hand. All he could take in was screaming and panic and the overwhelming pressure of the contents of his colon as it oozed from his anus caused because he to was panicking. This was not a time for thinking but acting!