My uncertainty will last forever

Other than the fact that I like poetry and art and expression, I can never seem to figure out/decide/stick with where my focus should be, even in those realms I like i.e. what should I do more of, what should I do less of, and why?
Often I think I should read and write more - and socialize less, but I’ll admit I sometimes feel jealous of writers who seem to have tons of writer/artist friends and lots of time to spend with them.  How do they connect with so many people? How do they find enough time to write?
Despite having a decent amount of time to focus on whatever I choose to focus on by myself, I sometimes feel lonely, un-liked, un-likable.
Often I think that I should spend less time promoting my creative work – and maybe even less time submitting it.  Then I think if I don’t submit it, get it published, and promote it, then hardly anybody is going to know about it and be able to read it.  Then I think even if I do promote it, hardly anyone reads it.  Maybe if I’m promoting myself a lot, people have a hard time focusing on what it is I’m promoting and thus pay less attention.
I don’t know.  Maybe I should just sort of continue on with the way I tend to fluctuate between focusing on this more, that more, this more in mutant circles – but sometimes my head hurts and I’m not sure if I’m doing anything right, anything important, anything that matters to anyone – and I don’t know who to ask, except for myself, but even my own opinions fluctuate in those warped semi-circle shapes. 

Maybe I need a doppelganger to talk to, share thoughts/feelings/opinions with, hang out with, do certain things for me, and do certain things with me.  Unless that doppelganger was even more mutated than the current twisting me.