Talent?

It seems that the hardest thing to admit is that you don't know what to do. My entire life I've dreamed of being the 'go-to' guy. I want to know everything, and I want everyone to know I know everything so they can ask me for help. I've wanted to do just about everything throughout my life: astronaut, firefighter, librarian, pastor, writer, restaurant owner/chef, social worker... the list drags on. What I really want to do, it seems I can't say. I know what I enjoy doing: I love sitting in a coffee shop, banging away at my computer. I love the way that writing affords me the right to be left alone when I want to be. I have control of who comes in and out of my life and when (for the most part). On days that I want to be just left alone, I need only tell people that I'm 'getting work done' or that 'I'm having a very creative day' and shouldn't be disturbed.

I think most people that know me don't see this part of me very often. The part of me that wants to crawl into a little hole and not talk to anyone, the part of me that wishes it was affordable to live alone and the part of me that wishes people could solve problems on their own.

Unfortunately, the other part of me wants nothing but to help people with those problems and, in so doing, make them like me more. The only way people will ever want to be around them is if I'm helping them in some way. I'm a servant, a tool, something that people need around because talking to a wall isn't super effective. I'm a fantastic listener, I'm very good at giving people want they want: advice, a hug, or just a sounding board. Because of these traits, people tell me I'd be great at a service job, anything from sales to social work. I see their point, but those are not something one can do alone; on those days I just need to wallow I would be unable to hide.

Does that mean I'm destined to write? It seems the perfect gig for someone like myself, but one burning question keeps gnawing at me:

Why would I be given these traits and these strong impulses to write and be creative, but a mediocre talent? It is some genetic joke, or perhaps God is playing a trick on me?

A desire just explodes out of me every time someone asks me to help them with a project or join a writers group, but I'm always stopped by my own voice telling me I can't do it.