Youth. To be young and juvenile again. What I wouldn’t do to turn the clock back. She sits at the edge of my tongue like a forgotten dream. It has been years, but it feels like she slipped away only moments ago.
Is it really about being childish or just being misunderstood? Not getting what they want, they have tantrums. They probably have reasons. What reasons? I don’t know. I am but a child. I know less than those that have lived longer than I have. I don’t know. Who am I to say such things then? I am but a child.
It’s hard being a grownup. Every day I wake up and have to remind myself that I’m in my own bed, in my own house, and have to get ready to go to my own real adult job. It’s weird. Will I ever stop feeling like a juvenile and start feeling like an adult? I don’t think I’m likely to get the answer to that anytime soon; maybe not ever. Maybe we’re all just wandering around in adult disguises wondering when we’re finally gonna feel like we’re not just kids playing pretend.
she was acting so juvenile. I thought she would have grown up some since then but she just kept bringing it up over and over and over When will this topic go away. Will she ever pass and actually grow up? Seems like gettiing married would have helped her get past those issues long ago.
They were shooting spitballs at the teacher again – juvenile as ever – yet when she turned to accost them this time, they reflected on something new in her eyes. She was weary. Weary of them. Weary of the weight of adolescence which she had been enduring for decades, the kind of deep-seeded weariness which develops over years of chronic, fatiguing persistence.
young, beautiful, youthful. Stupid. We sit in the car park with lipstick stains on coffee cups, unbrushed hair stiff with hairspray. So much for loving. Headlight is out. You still haven’t gotten your dad to fix it. Your boyfriend stands between your legs, his jeans chafing your thighs, his hands around your still small waist. Is this how you will remember him in twenty years, when he is still working at the mechanic shop selling used tires, and you are alone in a city far away with a clean apartment with too-high rent and too much white decor. You don’t like leaving room for memories.
Your thoughts are very juvenile. It will be great to grow up and leave the life of an adult. Take responsibility for your actions, do right, live a great life.
You’re so immature.
I know you are but what am I?
I’m trying to work, will you leave?
I’m bored.
Read a book.
I’ve read them all.
You’ve read every book?
All the good ones.
You are being absurd and you’re distracting me.
Pay attention to me!
I was in juvenile hall for seventeen years. At least that was what it felt like. My crime wasn’t that bad… I guess I just stopped paying attention when I was driving that car. No-one important died. It was just my senile neighbor.
He cuts in line for coffee. He’s skinny and pimply yet trying to act like a big man – he’s punctured by rings and spikes yet trying to look together – the frayed threads of his armless jean jacket hang like torn tendons down his shoulders yet he’s trying to look worldly – his skin’s a canvas and I dig the art, but his pants look ready to fall off and I’m not ready for that level of visual assault, so I hit the street for the next cafe.
he was being completely juvenile and he loved it. She decided she wasn’t going to put up with any more, wiped the jam off her face, and stepped out into the high street, where she was promptly hit by a bus.
I would like to think that I am matured compared to other people my age. But then again I find myself doing something juvenile and it humbles me back to my age. I need to give grace to people and to myself as well because we aren’t better than what we really are.
His act was juvenile,
his words were plain.
All of his writing lame,
he sounded twelve.
If you tried to delve
into what he said,
you’d hit a very hard
concrete bed.
I am a juvenile person. I don’t even know what juvenile means exactly. Like a kid right?
I behave like a juvenile all the time. This is not interesting at all. What if I write about horses? Juvenile horses flowing in the river wearing red hats? Does that work? aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
The juvenile kids were playing in the yard. They always did that they were all best friends in a way. they would work hard to make everyone satisfied with what they did. All the kids are playing baseball today that is the usual thing they did because all like it.
Nowadays the adolescent guys commit many mistakes and it affects the law and order issues of the state. They have not attained majority, for which they are sent to juvenile correction centers for a specific period to counsel and make them acceptable to the society. The culture of the society has degraded to such an extent that the minor kids get involved in criminal activities. Hence there is need of knowledge of Indian culture through the education system.and the parents should also provide due affection to their kids. The nation has the responsibility, but the corrupt attitude does not beget desirable lessons in the minds of the childish brain of the kids.
“don’t think just write” is what this is about, and juvenile is the word for the day, but this is kinda harder than you think because the time runs out before you can finish.
“Juvenile”, I strongly associate you with your brother “immaturity.” Which reminds me of someone. I think if he got to know himself, he would realize why some people strongly dislike him.
The juveline garnered a new found golf hat,
he found himself triumphing his own new swing,
hole in 7
then hole in 6
then hole in 5,
no longer a juvenile,
he began to run wild,
run wild with successive nuance
to his life,
his drawer that once was a mess of fabric,
a grubby, undesirable scrap yard of broken memories,
was now becoming the Florida Riviera.
Beauteous and countless divine spirit,
he broke free of his regard for delinquency,
because of a simple ingredient:
desire.
WELl I guess iv ebeen there up until yesterday actually … but im still working on the juvenile aspects of my nature even in my ripe old age . it is just something that doesnt eescape one very easily it is somehting that you need to cultivate out of yourself.
She was a juvenile delinquent, a criminal at sixteen. She was a fraudster, an embezzler, and a con artist all at the age of sixteen. She had managed to steal fifteen million dollars from American citizens, through tricks and schemes – all at the young, adolescent age of sixteen. And she was to be tried as an adult.
Was it worth it? It had been one of the best weeks of her life.
Wow. Juvenile. What an exotic word. The first thing I think about is a juvenile delinquient. It’s just me. I’m sorry. Maybe I can break some people out of jail? What do you think?
Annie looked younger than her years, much younger.
One day, walking with her dad, someone remarked how juvenile she appeared.
That she ought to be thankful for there’s nothing great about aging quickly.
When Annie and her dad entered a packed coffee shop, they saw an elderly man rise and offer his table.
Such youth, but no wisdom at all. Her words were simply juvenile. Even though she yearned for youth, she knew that with age came wisdom, and the juvenile girl would learn that youth goes away eventually.
I look at her watery eyes staring up at me. Judging. Full of hate. Full of childish wonder and childish anger. She is staring and she is stuck in a logic loop that she can’t control. She says words she doesn’t mean. She makes thoughts she doesn’t think. She hurls insults and anger that is inconsequential because she is speaking out of juvenile naivete.
Lists of juveniles climb towards the ages of that assist the older population, experience is formed, teaching taught and lessons enjoyed and the sense of urgency is patient.
Youth. To be young and juvenile again. What I wouldn’t do to turn the clock back. She sits at the edge of my tongue like a forgotten dream. It has been years, but it feels like she slipped away only moments ago.
Is it really about being childish or just being misunderstood? Not getting what they want, they have tantrums. They probably have reasons. What reasons? I don’t know. I am but a child. I know less than those that have lived longer than I have. I don’t know. Who am I to say such things then? I am but a child.
them juvenile delinqets get on my nerves
It’s hard being a grownup. Every day I wake up and have to remind myself that I’m in my own bed, in my own house, and have to get ready to go to my own real adult job. It’s weird. Will I ever stop feeling like a juvenile and start feeling like an adult? I don’t think I’m likely to get the answer to that anytime soon; maybe not ever. Maybe we’re all just wandering around in adult disguises wondering when we’re finally gonna feel like we’re not just kids playing pretend.
she was acting so juvenile. I thought she would have grown up some since then but she just kept bringing it up over and over and over When will this topic go away. Will she ever pass and actually grow up? Seems like gettiing married would have helped her get past those issues long ago.
They were shooting spitballs at the teacher again – juvenile as ever – yet when she turned to accost them this time, they reflected on something new in her eyes. She was weary. Weary of them. Weary of the weight of adolescence which she had been enduring for decades, the kind of deep-seeded weariness which develops over years of chronic, fatiguing persistence.
young, beautiful, youthful. Stupid. We sit in the car park with lipstick stains on coffee cups, unbrushed hair stiff with hairspray. So much for loving. Headlight is out. You still haven’t gotten your dad to fix it. Your boyfriend stands between your legs, his jeans chafing your thighs, his hands around your still small waist. Is this how you will remember him in twenty years, when he is still working at the mechanic shop selling used tires, and you are alone in a city far away with a clean apartment with too-high rent and too much white decor. You don’t like leaving room for memories.
Juvenile, is a kid not an adult juvenile is not a jail (well it is) a juvenile is a kid. (well thats what i know)
Your thoughts are very juvenile. It will be great to grow up and leave the life of an adult. Take responsibility for your actions, do right, live a great life.
You’re so immature.
I know you are but what am I?
I’m trying to work, will you leave?
I’m bored.
Read a book.
I’ve read them all.
You’ve read every book?
All the good ones.
You are being absurd and you’re distracting me.
Pay attention to me!
I was in juvenile hall for seventeen years. At least that was what it felt like. My crime wasn’t that bad… I guess I just stopped paying attention when I was driving that car. No-one important died. It was just my senile neighbor.
He cuts in line for coffee. He’s skinny and pimply yet trying to act like a big man – he’s punctured by rings and spikes yet trying to look together – the frayed threads of his armless jean jacket hang like torn tendons down his shoulders yet he’s trying to look worldly – his skin’s a canvas and I dig the art, but his pants look ready to fall off and I’m not ready for that level of visual assault, so I hit the street for the next cafe.
1juvenile=Jouint Unto Volition Echo Nows Into Live Evers
This is now as when I was a young juvenile, do not think rush and have fun. Here is the weekend under the shining sun, let all your hopes run and run.
he was being completely juvenile and he loved it. She decided she wasn’t going to put up with any more, wiped the jam off her face, and stepped out into the high street, where she was promptly hit by a bus.
I would like to think that I am matured compared to other people my age. But then again I find myself doing something juvenile and it humbles me back to my age. I need to give grace to people and to myself as well because we aren’t better than what we really are.
His act was juvenile,
his words were plain.
All of his writing lame,
he sounded twelve.
If you tried to delve
into what he said,
you’d hit a very hard
concrete bed.
Even as an adult, it’s fun to act juvenile once in a while. Perhaps not so very mature, but still fun.
When we’re older, we’d like to be younger. When we’re young, we want to be older — just not too old, you know, like over 25.
Why can’t we be content with who we are?
I think of this word as a prison or a delinquent. Ha, brings me back…not really
I am a juvenile person. I don’t even know what juvenile means exactly. Like a kid right?
I behave like a juvenile all the time. This is not interesting at all. What if I write about horses? Juvenile horses flowing in the river wearing red hats? Does that work? aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa
East Woodsburn Juvenile Detention Center.
The name hung above the door to the big, brick building, announcing as it did: Here lie the dying boys of East Woodsburn.
“Do you even love me?”
“What a juvenile thing to worry about; I’m here with you now after everything. Obviously that would be a yes.”
The juvenile kids were playing in the yard. They always did that they were all best friends in a way. they would work hard to make everyone satisfied with what they did. All the kids are playing baseball today that is the usual thing they did because all like it.
From what i hear juvenile is not a cool word.
i would not want to be a juvenile.
Nowadays the adolescent guys commit many mistakes and it affects the law and order issues of the state. They have not attained majority, for which they are sent to juvenile correction centers for a specific period to counsel and make them acceptable to the society. The culture of the society has degraded to such an extent that the minor kids get involved in criminal activities. Hence there is need of knowledge of Indian culture through the education system.and the parents should also provide due affection to their kids. The nation has the responsibility, but the corrupt attitude does not beget desirable lessons in the minds of the childish brain of the kids.
“don’t think just write” is what this is about, and juvenile is the word for the day, but this is kinda harder than you think because the time runs out before you can finish.
“Juvenile”, I strongly associate you with your brother “immaturity.” Which reminds me of someone. I think if he got to know himself, he would realize why some people strongly dislike him.
when some one go to jail and go to more then one jail in a month
The juveline garnered a new found golf hat,
he found himself triumphing his own new swing,
hole in 7
then hole in 6
then hole in 5,
no longer a juvenile,
he began to run wild,
run wild with successive nuance
to his life,
his drawer that once was a mess of fabric,
a grubby, undesirable scrap yard of broken memories,
was now becoming the Florida Riviera.
Beauteous and countless divine spirit,
he broke free of his regard for delinquency,
because of a simple ingredient:
desire.
WELl I guess iv ebeen there up until yesterday actually … but im still working on the juvenile aspects of my nature even in my ripe old age . it is just something that doesnt eescape one very easily it is somehting that you need to cultivate out of yourself.
She was a juvenile delinquent, a criminal at sixteen. She was a fraudster, an embezzler, and a con artist all at the age of sixteen. She had managed to steal fifteen million dollars from American citizens, through tricks and schemes – all at the young, adolescent age of sixteen. And she was to be tried as an adult.
Was it worth it? It had been one of the best weeks of her life.
Under 18,
he saw himself as the master of the world
where women played no role.
Outside the bars, the world snarled at him.
Some pitied, would death penalty be fair?
Was a juvenile or a rapist first?
The day of judgment seemed so far away.
Wow. Juvenile. What an exotic word. The first thing I think about is a juvenile delinquient. It’s just me. I’m sorry. Maybe I can break some people out of jail? What do you think?
Some kids are not mature but just juvenile and GOD does not want us to be that way!
Annie looked younger than her years, much younger.
One day, walking with her dad, someone remarked how juvenile she appeared.
That she ought to be thankful for there’s nothing great about aging quickly.
When Annie and her dad entered a packed coffee shop, they saw an elderly man rise and offer his table.
“Honeymooners?” he asked.
Such youth, but no wisdom at all. Her words were simply juvenile. Even though she yearned for youth, she knew that with age came wisdom, and the juvenile girl would learn that youth goes away eventually.
I look at her watery eyes staring up at me. Judging. Full of hate. Full of childish wonder and childish anger. She is staring and she is stuck in a logic loop that she can’t control. She says words she doesn’t mean. She makes thoughts she doesn’t think. She hurls insults and anger that is inconsequential because she is speaking out of juvenile naivete.
Lists of juveniles climb towards the ages of that assist the older population, experience is formed, teaching taught and lessons enjoyed and the sense of urgency is patient.