Life Is Full of Questions

We question whether or not it is appropriate to question. Why does this happen? Why does that happen? Life is full of questions

For all of the people who may know me. They know i'm not normal. I am always in the wrong place in the wrong time. My name is Collin. Collin Williams. Although I am a seventeen year old now, ill always be a kid at heart. I always try to have fun, although, trouble seems to follow me everywhere I go. I live in a small town in New York near the city. I can't mention the name of the town because they might find me. Ah! Now, another question! Who are "they" you may ask? Well, finally after being transferred to 7 different schools, this school couldn't take it. My most recent "accident" landed me in a Juvenile Delinquent Center. There you go again! See? life is full of questions. Why? I will explain how I got myself into this delightful place as soon as I catch you up on my life.

Every day i wake up I continue to full my head with more and more questions. The question that I myself still ask is; How the hell is it possible for 1 kid to have been kicked out of seven different private schools? I don't know. While I explain my story, I have to keep moving before "they" catch me. "They" are the cops. The cops are after me because I "escaped" well, I kinda just left my cell. I woke up one morning in my "bed", if you can even call it that. I look at the door to my room and it is slightly open. So, i took the chance and walked out. I didn't have many belongings with me so I guess I packed light? So I took it upon myself to just leave. I stick my head out into the hallway and saw no guards on duty. I took advantage of this once in a lifetime event and ventured out into the iron jungle hallways. After a few minutes of walking, I found the door that led to the "dangerous" outside world. The next 15 minutes were easily one of the most scariest times of my sick and odd life.

The alarms to the prison went off. The huge spotlights were in search of the stupid delinquent that decided to escape. Of course I am the kid. So in natural adrenal instinct, I run. I'm used to running based on adrenaline. Well, to tell you how I got into the cell in the first place, I used to live in the city of Manhattan. I lived in a small apartment with my mom and only my mom. The apartment was small, but it was home. Being that I went to private school and we live in an apartment, money was an issue. Mom worked at a bakery on Delancy street. She worked almost full time. I didn't get to see her often. Every night at around 10, she would come home, with flour on her cheeks and still ready to stay up and talk with me while drinking hot cocoa. Boy what i would give to be back in my nice comfy bed. But alas, i'm not. I'm actually running for my life.

Here we go again with the