The Orchid Thief: Narrative

I bracketed this passage because I often feel uncomfortably small and stilted in this world full of possibilities. I hate that I can not be good at everything. I want to have time to learn all languages, play every musical instrument, write every form of poetry and prose, dance to every type of music, and make lots of money. I don't understand why we can not care passionately about everything? Would it be so bad to be euphorically delighted about all that the world has to offer? And what if we could? Would passion not have the same effect, or would we be orgasmically thrilled about every detail? Why don't humans have the capacity of heart and mind to encompass more? No wonder we feel insignificant, abandoned, lonely, and unappreciated. They're things we can get to the bottom of. They're not like joy, excitement, opportunity, learning, and creativity. They're limitless; they can not be contained. maybe I just don't fit into containers very well...