To Be Honest

To be completely honest right now, I didn't know what to say when I first started blogging. I don't even know what to say right now. Writing used to come so easily to me, but now I find my mind so clouded by stupidity that I can't seem to get out a simple sentence. I had all these dreams of writing books that would change people's lives, like Fitzgerald, Dickens, Cervantes, and Alighieri did. Now it just feels like I'm a failure because I didn't make like S. E. Hinton and write my first best selling novel at age 15. You go about your day hearing about all these successful people doing all these amazing things. For most people, those stories are inspiring and motivational. For me, however, those stories show me that the 1% of people who are actually successful in the world have been already decided for my generation and I should just throw in the towel now.
What is it about creative blocks that makes people so crazy? I don't get to write, so that means I should go bat-shit crazy on everyone, including myself? It's one of the most disheartening things in the world not to be able to practice one's craft. 99% of the population understands that, though, don't they?
I have this very strange outlook on life that drives me to firmly believe that a very small percentage of the world anywhere accomplishes the things they set out to do when they were young. I feel like I am to have all these expectations for myself, only to have them dashed. Many of us would be completely unable to recover from something like that. Will I?
That's the ultimate question asked by me, this blog, every action I've taken, etc. Will I write the "Great American Novel"? Will I change the world the way I hope to? Will I...?