I have no point

I look at people like him. And I think of how lucky they are. They still have a constant flow of ideas, only speckled with less than an ounce of self-doubt. Constantly making things, throwing things out just to replace them with things that are greater. I wish I was like them. Growing up but never throwing out what made things wonderful. Never not doing things because "What's the point?" or "This is useless" because everything they do has a point. It makes sense, it always makes sense, even if they don't think it does, or never will. And even when they don't, they make it anyway. They create things, from the little spark it was in their minds to the full blown lightning storm it is when it's finished. Not for anyone but themselves, and maybe a few people they enjoy entertaining. Me? I have no idea what to do with those sparks. I can't make a light big enough to illuminate a cupboard, let alone a storm. I decide to trash them as suddenly as I decide to make them, doing both without a point. Maybe that's why they're so good at what they do. They try enough to make a point out of it that they can see it through to the end, but don't take it seriously enough for it to crumble in their hands during the process. Their ideas come out and are shaped and molded until they come to something great, while mine come in and out into large heaps of scraps. Everything and nothing is in that heap, essentially because I could have made anything with it, but just left it there to be forgotten anyway. I think I've digressed from my original point, but then again I'm not entirely sure what that was. I do wonder though if people like him know what theirs was, before or after they've made something. I have no idea. I wonder if they do.