She'd always wondered what love looked like. Holding hands, quick kisses on the cheek, meeting up in a janitor's closet at the worst times, and not having the self control to care. But, more than that, she wondered what love felt like. Warmth radiating through your body, heat rushing to your cheeks every time they smiled, a feeling you couldn't describe to someone who hadn't felt it themselves. She had, at one point, thought that she was in love with Jaune Arc. He was loveable, in a goofy brotherly way, and that's why she loved him; but as just that. A brother, nothing more. A leader, nothing less. Looking back at her age, she should have seen it. She felt love towards Jaune, but there was no affection. No wanting to be around him every waking moment, no glances at the wrong places for too long, no urges to do anything with him besides be friends. Perhaps what made her so hesitant to accept the truth, for her, is that she wasn't straight. She wasn't, she supposed, anything at all. Asexual.
And despite efforts to lessen hatred towards them, the gay community as a whole was outcasted and frowned upon. And more than that, viewed as wrong. What more of she, someone who felt no lust at all? In a society built around it, it was something she did not have. At least, that was the conclusion she originally came to.
She was vain. She had always known this, despite her internal conflicts on so many other issues. She knew she was perfect, physically stunning in every way. She was kind to everyone, and she meant it when she was. She didn't think that everyone else was bad; just that she was better. And everything seemed to reinforce this. And finally, one night when she was alone in her room looking herself over in the mirror, she realized it. She was in love with herself.