Practicing my finitude is liberating

I set three alarms for 6am almost every night in 15 minute intervals since my freshman year of college. My freshman year: Completely successful, but it's been downhill from there on after. For the last five years, I've managed to wake up to the second of these three alarms maybe 10 times, and I'm starting to believe that it has nothing to do with my will power, and everything to do with the fact that I just can't. That, contrary to the American dream mentality, sometimes we can't just do anything [we dream of] if we would only put our minds to it; that sometimes, we actually can't fly, and that most always, we are far from omnipotence (with the possible exceptions of Martin Luther King Jr., Ghandi and my two friends who both share a type A personality in common).
That, too often, we put our minds to doing thousands of tasks, because we were told we could do anything. That, too often, we live in guilt because we spent an hour or two of our day lying around. That, too often, we spend our lives wanting--wanting to be like my friend who's a type A--wanting to backpack through Europe by ourselves even though we, unlike our introverted friends, know that we need to have a community around us. That even though we know that not everyone is the same, we don't actually know it, and spend our lives wanting to live up to the same homogenizing standard that we were informed about when we were 5.
What if all I was meant to do in this life is write poetry, love people in my life, actually receive the love others are trying to give me [without trying to be self sufficient for once], and to be a good steward of the things I already have? What if this means filling my day with coffee dates, listening, writing letters and being thankful for my job just so that I don't go hungry and have to live in a cardboard box? What if, ultimately, the lesson I was meant to learn is that I am not a god, and the salvation of the world does not come from my productivity or my efficiency? What if it--changing the world-- actually doesn't come from me, and that life, is actually about more than flying?