How do I begin to tell you, one among the handful of people whom I love beyond reason who has never read The Bhagavadgita, and you-- so exceptional, so smart, so creative and so adept at charming the entire world, that when you tell me you can't imagine what I see in you, and that your plan is to give yourself over to the despondency that has you in its grips, you are following a faulty line of logic and thinking yourself, sweetheart, into a box in which you will have to live for the next thirty or forty years?
(Perhaps you have read The Bhagavadgita after all and this is nothing more than a device. Assume nothing. I can be tricky that way.)
My dear, you have forgotten yourself.
You stand as though on the field of battle, between two armies, and your great heart falters. You can see no possibility for a victorious outcome.
You are weary and despondent and forgetful of your greatness.
(I have this pet theory that it's the greatest of hearts that are prone to be afflicted with this kind of tribulation.)
Do not be undone by self-doubt. Do not allow yourself to be undone.
Instead, let me remember, for you, who you are--who you really are, I mean.
Let me tell to you the story of Arjuna, for even the greatest of warriors may be subject to debilitating despondency. Even Arjuna despaired and sank to his knees, immobilized.
Let me be your charioteer and I will show you that, though you feel small now, you are vast.
Let me be Krishna for you, dearest, and I shall make of myself a mirror before you, reflective, so that you may see yourself as I see you. Let me be Krishna, he whose name means blue-black, and I shall make of myself a midnight sky so that, star that you are, you may again see your own brilliance.
And if you do not let me do these things, I shall do them anyway. On this count, Krishna would disapprove. He would do his best to convince you and then instruct you to do as you please, and so give you back your freedom but I don't care. I, quite simply, can not help myself. I will shake you until you stop this. I will drag you physically from this lassitude if need be.
(Yes, I know I began that last paragraph with a conjunction and that you will likely point this out.)
Don't you see that your story is Arjuna's story? I know this so well because Arjuna's story has been my story, too.
This wrechedness does not become you.
I know you.
You are better than you think you are.
It's time now, sweetheart.