March, 2015, The Brown House, Hill Valley. Jules was in a permanent state of existential crisis. He worried almost constantly, about the world he inhabited, the life he wanted to inhabit. His mother described him as a 48 year old in the body of an 18 year old. And in all honesty he usually did prefer the company of adults to his peers. Of course at present the idea of spending time with fulfilled, self-actualised adults made him feel nauseous because in them he saw his failings (the idea of spending time with unfulfilled adults with no direction in life was even more repellent as in them he saw his reflection).
Then again being forced to interact with people of his own age group was unimaginable. His personal understanding (from observing his brother and Marlene) was that most young people could engage in meaningful conversation when solitary or in a group of two however he noticed a direct correlation between a drop in IQ points when couples with an increasing friendship group. When at home he would happily communicate with his brother (and Marlene if she was in attendance) about a whole variety of topics; but he would never have dreamed of starting a debate about Shakespeare's relevance to modern society at school when they were with their other friends.
Another thing that Jules had noticed was that maintaining these friendships seemed extremely tiring, they spend the whole day babbling together at school about God knows what only to continue the flow of dialogue at home via text or skype. And on top of that, these friends expected you to make appearances at social occasions and functions where not only would have to speak with your friends but also with strangers, acquaintances and various other offenders and by the end of the evening you would have made even more friends and the whole vile process would repeat itself. Then there came a knock at the door, really at the most inopportune moment Jules really was in no fit mood to speak to anyone.
"Come in?"
Marlene Mcfly, vaguely dishevelled, standing in his bed room door way, fiddling absent-mindedly with a strand of hair.
"Hey Jules," he smiled at the Beatles reference, "Your brother around?"
"It's 1 o'clock on a Sunday, I assume he's still in bed."
She smirked and nodded. "You grown a few inches since I saw you last, Brown?"
"You've probably just shrunk, Mcfly," he teased.
"Don't get clever with me, Brown," she jibed, "How's Advanced Calculus treating you?"
"Well someone's got to do it…"
"Pfft, don't act like you're too cool for numbers in front of me, punk."
"I don't think I've ever been accused of being too cool in my life."
She grinned. "I'd better go and wake sleeping beauty, laters Brown."
"'Bye Mcfly."
Jules amended his previous thought. He was always in a fit mood to converse with Marlene Mcfly.