First Story, its short but please give critique

THE CELL

Sitting in a cell all day could be just about the most uneventful things that one could ever do. Thats not to say that those of whom have had the experience of such have always found it boring. I will support the argument that most do, but like most people if not all people everyone has a different definition of boring. For instance, say I was running along the beach at 6 in the morning when the sunlight is just starting to peak over the edge of the water hundreds of miles out, or in actuality if you want to be all technical about 2.8 miles out because thats as far as you can see when looking at the horizon, I would find it flirting with boredom. However if you took someone who is fond of such things, again addressing that people have differences in opinion when it comes to boredom, they could find it one of the most enjoyable parts of their life. Take for example a man, not a manly man persay, 30’s wait no how about 20’s yes 20’s, 22 lets say. We have a 22 year old man, short brown hair, blue eyes, and a runners build. Make up your own height for this man whom we shall name chris. Yes, so this chris is just your average looking kid on a summer vacation of sorts who since he was a kid chris has always wanted to go to the ocean to see the waves and whatnot, but sadly his dad who he was solely raised by was always too busy to make the trip. Chris’s dad however would always tell stories of when he was a child his father would walk with him hand in hand on the beach and look out over the water just mesmerized at the beauty of it all. Listening to his dads stories chris fell in love with the ocean. The dad promised the young chris that one day he would take him to see the ocean. The summer chris turned 12 his dad fell victim to a cancer from which he would never recover. Weeping at his father's bedside chris begged his dad to stay alive reminding him how they still had to walk on the beach together like his dad did with him. Looking up chris could see his father had passed, with a tear rolling down his cheek. After being tossed from foster home to foster home the now 18 chris went out on his own depressed as anyone in his situation would be. He had odd jobs here and there and for four years sat alone in his apartment room drinking himself to sleep. It was in the fourth year of this routine that chris remembered a promise he once shared with his Dad. At 5 in the morning Chris packed his few possessions into a backpack and walked out his apartment door, shutting it for the last time who couldn't help but feel a sense of remorse for the years he’d slowly rotted away in it, alone. He went down to the street and called a taxi, and while thinking it over threw his bag to the side of the curb and got in. Taking his first step onto the sand and looking behind him at a last glimpse of the city he had only been in for some 10 minutes to get to the beach he started walking towards the ocean. Seeing the rays of light dancing atop the ocean was more beautiful now than he had imagined it in his head with his dads stories. Thinking of his dad as he walked pleading to himself or perhaps to some sort of deity he begged for his dad to be there with him on the beach like he had promised years before. Tear after tear went down chris’s cheek as he closed his eyes and walked out into the water not to return… There are a few other examples I would like to give you, but sadly my time is up. I will however let you know about my take on my cell. My cell which has been my home for a very short time, and will be my home for a very short time yet is not just a cell, but a place for me to dwell on my memories and experiences because it will be the last chance I will have to ever think or dream. That my new found friend is why unlike many others I do not find this cell in which I reside to be boring, but in fact a recreation of all my life before my eyes. Now if you'll excuse me i’ll be taking my last few steps into the room down the hall where my story ends. Thank you for listening, and would you please heed my twocents about boredom. Enjoy Life.

I see a lot of words that are the equivalent of an academic um. However, shall, per se, whatnot, perhaps...
Are you writing a story from the perspective of someone on death row? Why is this person telling Chris's story? Are you writing about someone telling Chris's story because you are scared to write it yourself?
Death is obviously on your mind. Why not talk about it directly?
I suggest you peel some of these layers away and show us what you feel.