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on survival

It's important, when you look at something, to consider what isn't there just as much as what is

The stuff that isn't there is no less impactful

What people don't say is just as loud

But sometimes they give me advice, and this is what they say:

"You can't make anyone love you the way you need them to."

"It's what you don't see coming that kills you."

"Sometimes people only say "yes" because they don't know that "no" is an option."

"Feeling bad is a choice. If you're sad, just turn that off. Choose to feel something else."

"The law doesn't do shit when people just ignore it. Some people just dig their heels on and let the world spin around them, and that's how they get away with it."

And I don't agree with all the advice they give, but it paints the white around a black silhouette, doesn't it?

Every piece is like the shadow cast by something that isn't there.

Therre's a lot they'll probably never tell me, but the more they don't explain, the clearer the outline becomes.

If you only paint around a thing, and really get the details in, you might as well just blurt it out

I've been let down by those I love.

I'm always watching for danger, especially where there seems to be none.

My life has revolved around putting other's desires above my own.

I don't know how to be sad and alive at the same time.

I've been hurt by people who never faced justice.

If you only hear what's spoken, and only read the words on the page, and only appreciate an image for what's drawn, you miss out on half of everything you encounter.

And I feel like that's something we're losing our grip on

There was an older gentleman sitting across from me on the M train.  It was about 6:30am, so I didn’t think much of it when he started leaning over.  It was when he kept going when most people would jerk awake that about 5 of us took action.  We asked if anyone knew CPR in our car, and when we pulled into the next station, we held the doors open and shouted for a doctor (there was a firefighter on the train with us who knew CPR, because that’s how things are in NYC).  No response during CPR.  The older gentleman’s lips were turning blue. 

When the ambulance arrived, the paramedics took over and after 2 minutes of no reaction, I watched something that will always haunt my soul existentially, the way this pic does:  The paramedic yelled at this man that he had to get up because he’d be late for work.  And he got a response.  I don’t know if the older man made it, but he had a pulse when they took him up the stairs to the ambulance.

Javert is the echo of the man he chases - ostensibly having chosen the “right” path compared to JVJ, but he still sufferers and has to watch JVJ rise. Javert followed the law to letter while JVJ broke it again and again. And yet JVJ is granted mercy and extends that mercy to others - consequently receiving everything in life that Javert longs for (despite breaking laws and giving into temptations). JVJ receives the grace that Javert craved and chased his whole life. And Javert dies for the transgression of finally extending his own grace to Valjean.

Eponine is the echo of the girl her family exploited - she is given everything she needed as a child, compared to the neglected Cosette, but is transformed into the exploited child herself as a teenager and young adult. She falls to a similar position to young Cosette - forced to scavenge for scraps and beg to eat - but no wealthy benefactor rescues her from that poverty. There is no love left for Eponine at the end of the day. Cosette had nothing, and yet she is given all the love and protection that Eponine craved and chased her whole life. And Eponine dies for the transgression of furthering and protecting all the love given to Cosette.

As OP suggests: Javert needs grace and Eponine needs love. Valjean is saved through grace and Cosette is saved through love. But Javert puts his faith in an unjust system instead of god/mercy, and Eponine is forced to try and save herself - an impossible task. Valjean and Cosette are the ideal; Javert and Eponine are the tragic reality.

blue, like the rooftops of the city over yonder blue, like the ghosts of brothers long gone

blue, like the crystalized hope of tomorrow blue, like my hair he'd braid gently when long

blue, like the ocean that drowned all my sorrows blue, like the smoke of my sister's last song