"If there were only something I knew how to do. In an unbelievably vast universe--a starspace so large our poor words cannot even encompass it--it seems a terrible shame when a man cannot even find for himself a way to contribute. A way to express even a fraction of the awe he feels when he looks out at the face of incomprehensible size and power, its bright eyes burning in the dark. God! My soul cries to express itself in some way; how I wish myself capable of creating beauty. A world in the shadow of the great fire, the dark creeping across its mottled surface; and I can't find even one way to increase the light. Not one thing at which I excel, one thing I can do which is valuable, one thing at which my pitiful efforts do not fall short. Does my path hold anything but shame? Is there in my future anything but bitter remorse and brooding memory? I fear the end will be even smaller than the life. In a universe of billions of galaxies, there must be many losers. I must accept the truth that this is who I am."

-- A ____________

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And this is the thing -- I don't think A_______ was/is alone. I think so many of us, if not all, feel/have occasionally felt this way. I suspect even the most talented geniuses do ... at least sometimes.