You know that feeling when you're lying in bed, doomscrolling, and suddenly the silence gets loud? Like—am I doing enough? Is this all there is? Am I… wasting my life? Yeah. That one. It doesn’t matter how old you are or where you live—this fear shows up uninvited, like the one friend who only calls when they're spiraling. You could be 22 with a dream and a LinkedIn bio that says “aspiring,” or 47 with a stable job and a growing sense that something’s off. The thought comes in either way: What if I miss the point of this whole thing? What if I don’t live the life I’m meant to? Now before you grab a self-help book, a green juice, or your therapist’s emergency line, let me introduce you to something far older and far more honest: The Bhagavad Gita.

1. Do your work. Let go of the results
You know what makes us miserable? Outcome obsession. We want guarantees. Closure. A three-year plan with bullet points. We want to know if the person we love will love us back, if the risk will pay off, if the world will clap when we speak. But Krishna tells Arjuna—who, by the way, is having a full-blown panic attack on a battlefield—something most of us spend our whole lives running from: “You have a right to action, but not to its fruits.” That’s not a threat. That’s freedom.
You’re allowed to try without knowing how it ends. You’re allowed to care deeply and still let go. You’re allowed to live without demanding life owes you a tidy reward for being brave. Because meaning doesn't come from winning. It comes from showing up with your whole self, even when you're scared.

2. No one else can live your part
Comparison is one of the fastest ways to feel like your life is going nowhere. Everyone’s highlight reel makes you question your whole script. You see someone else thriving and think—Maybe I took a wrong turn. Maybe I’m behind.
But Krishna’s take? “Better to fail in your own dharma than succeed in another’s.” In other words: Don't envy someone else’s life. It's not your role.
You’re here to live a story only you can live. Not the one your parents planned. Not the one society likes. Not even the one that looks good from the outside. The Gita says—find your truth, even if it’s messy, even if it scares you. Even if no one claps. Because when you do someone else’s part well, it might look good. But when you do your part truthfully? It feels right. And that’s what lasts.

3. Even doubt is a path
Here’s the thing no one tells you: Arjuna, the warrior hero of the Gita, doesn’t want to fight. He wants to run away. He questions everything. He breaks down in front of God, on record. And Krishna doesn’t shame him. He doesn’t say “be positive” or “trust the universe.” He lets him question. And then he answers. Patiently. So if you’re confused right now—about your job, your relationship, your faith, your identity—guess what? You’re not broken. You’re just on the path.
Doubt isn’t failure. It’s the place truth begins. And no, you don’t need to have all the answers. Just the willingness to ask better questions. And maybe—stay long enough in the silence to hear something back.

4. The soul cannot be destroyed
Here’s the Gita’s quietest, most powerful promise: “Weapons cannot cut it. Fire cannot burn it. Water cannot drown it. The soul is eternal.” Now, whether you believe in souls or not, pause for a second. This means you are more than your worst decision. More than your fears. Your failures. Your resume. Your trauma.
There is something in you that cannot be broken. Which means… even if you “waste” a year, or five, or a decade—you haven’t failed. You’ve just been learning how to return to yourself. And maybe that’s what life is, really: A remembering.

So, what is a wasted life?
The Gita never says, “do more.” It says, “be truer.” A wasted life isn’t one where you didn’t make it big, or go viral, or become spiritually perfect. It’s a life where you forgot who you are. Where you lived by fear instead of love. Where you waited too long for permission that was yours all along. But if you’re reading this, it means you’re still in it. Still breathing. Still choosing. Still here. And that means you can begin again—any day. Even if that beginning looks like drinking chai on your balcony and finally saying, “This moment is enough.” You don’t need to be perfect. You just need to be present. Start there. And the rest, like Krishna says, will take care of itself.