Blake was uncomfortable around the concept of love. Because intrinsically it holds some sort of power over the people in it- stopping them from leaving, or rather- stopping them from wanting to.
Blake didn't always feel this way, there was a time, foggy and muddled like a hazy summer afternoon, where she had loved and wanted, and felt, everything around her. But those feelings, privileges in a world like this one, as Blake had come to learn- those feelings didn't slowly die away, they didn't softly perish. She had them beaten from her, broken over and over again, into the dirty pavement until those feelings were small and bloody and guarded.
Because they were dangerous to have, and dangerous to show others-an ineffective weapon easily turned against you. But because she is and probably always will be disgustingly selfish, she kept them. As small and pale as they were now, she still wanted to feel something. It was too easy to slip into hours, days of feeling nothing but numb. On missions, with Adam, writing speeches, even reading gave her no joy other than the lack of time to introspect about herself- which she suspects is the real reason she read so frequently anyway. But occasionally, when well-hidden and absolutely assured of her safety- she would allow herself a moment of weakness. The feeling of her toes, dipped in the cold streams of Vale reminded her of home. So she felt…nostalgic, bitter, maybe sad? The tuna fish she stole tasted good, did that make her feel…happy? Hungry for more, content? These concepts had once been ridiculously simple to her, but now, after months of preventing herself from experiencing any feelings at all- a method she had used to protect herself from pain and anguish-well, now these simple concepts were refreshing, and more importantly, they awoke something within her.
In moments like these Blake felt a startling shift in her mind. Life…life could be good. A simple statement grammatically, but none the less complicated in its meaning. Eating tuna, walking in streams, listening to a fire crackle or smelling the inside of a bakery- these things were good? They made her happy, and peaceful, and just…whole. Little by little those pitiful little feelings were coming back again- hesitant, and cautious, looking at the world that hurt them with wary eyes- but they came back. And with the resurfacing of feelings- including the guilt, and the shame and the ever popular self-loathing, Blake left the White Fang to find somewhere she could escape, somewhere she could quietly heal.
Maybe it says something about her that a 'quiet place she could heal 'meant a school that taught in hunting deadly monsters, but then it probably said something about everybody there.
Her almost full-ish year in Beacon was probably one of the best periods of her life. It was...fun, in a silly childish way that almost directly parodied Blake's grim and bloody previous life. She laughed what seemed like constantly, smiled so much her face hurt, and teased the ever living shit out of a Schnee. And of course there was Yang, who brought out small traces of love she had buried when she turned into a monster, and utterly abandoned when Adam showed himself to be worse one. Of course she was careful with her emotions, wary of her friends, of course she was secretive- and to be honest if she had even learned an ounce from her time in the White Fang she should have been a lot worse- but they made it so easy. To be loved, to love them, her team practically begged for her full attention and support and trust. And in that environment, with Jaune only eating dinosaur shaped chicken bits, massive and frankly wasteful food fights, and Yang's ridiculous puns, it was so simple to love and trust and feel.
But that was a mistake. Since apparently she hadn't learnt her lesson the first time the universe decided it was about time for a refresher. Nobody likes to be told they were wrong, nobody likes to be told that, as unpleasant as it was, they got it right the first time. If enough people you like and respect tell you you're safe and that even semi-bad people get to feel nice once and awhile you'll believe it. But that doesn't make it true. Believing in a lie you really, really like, doesn't actually make it any more real than Santa clause or the tooth fairy, or any of the other silly wistful ideas we quietly tuck away as we head into adulthood. The only difference is, for most people your parents tell you Santa isn't real, if you don't already have that spoiled to you from your peers. But in real life not everyone figures out that sometimes you just can't be happy, not everyone will ever see that sometimes you just have to stop feeling anything at all. Because some people will never have to, and some people are too stupid, oblivious or stubborn to face reality. And sometimes that works, and sometimes you lose your arm.