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Abstract

When you are young you feel that you are invincible— bulletproof. You know everything you need to know, and you can do no wrong. You feel that the world is your personal oyster and that you’re just waiting for that one grain of sand to make you the perfect pearl. Then, in an instant, youth's fragile window of optimism gets shattered and you realize that the world is now your cage. In one downward stroke of some Judge’s gavel you are forever branded a felon. The man in black has made you another American statistic. “Oh, don’t feel bad,” he says. Your Honor conveniently forgets to tell you to leave your hopes and dreams at the door.

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