Personal Narrative: I Hate The Dregs

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You never get over the smell. Life was hard enough, forced into an wasteland by the newly classified elite. Even if you can get over the adversity, there is no escaping the rotting trash amongst you. I don’t think that’s what I hate the most of it all, or even the part that hurts the most. It’s just that one thing that gets under your skin, like a ringing in your ear. I always find it funny when people find happiness down here; like, yeah, you came to peace with being treated like trash, but it does not change the fact you live next to the dump. But that’s the thing about living down here: it may get better, but it never really gets better. # I was not alive when it happened, it was years before my day. It’s been said that scientists finding that gene is the best thing that happened to society. It separated the gold from the muck in our population! Or so they say… but when you wake up …show more content…

It smells awful, it’s loud as hell, and more depressing than the shoebox I live in. It is no wonder the Dregs refer to it only as Last Resort Harbor; it’s the last place anyone would want to be, yet here I am. I see Jude to the right, tapping his foot. His eyes catch me and he waves me over, a smile on his face. “Hey Damon! I was afraid you weren’t gonna show, thought maybe yesterday was too much,” he said, half serious, while he handed me my cap. “It was too much. Yet here I am,” I say as bitter as I can muster. Jude always tells me I am a major downer, but I disagree. I say I am a product of my environment, which always welcomes an eye roll response. Jude has been my best friend since grade school, the only one that can tolerate me, I guess. He is definitely someone I look up to, even though he’s my age. He stays level headed, and always has a smile on his face. Him getting me this job that I hate is a prime example of Jude being Jude: always doing the right thing, even if you didn’t want him

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