What is it about youth that allows one to dream with such great fervor? What is it that allows one to exist so vividly in the realm of the unreal? Is it merely ignorance through which the dark, potent fog of reality is pierced, revealing a universe of untapped possibility? In a society where “Survival of the Fittest” is a harsh and unbroken law, are rose-colored glasses a protective shell with which to shield the mind from crushing stress? What, then, brings about the desire, or need, to cast off our shells… and are we truly better off without them?