The child never looks back on infancy... the youth scorns their childish pursuits. In adulthood, with some distance, it all becomes fair game again (to the point where one might even regress, but that's another subject). Until then, the former self must be destroyed, violently and without pity. She was a fool, her concerns were frivolous, she was pathetic, she didn't see the truth, unlike me: the final form. Jane wisely sees the cracks in this logic, the most obvious being that a life can't be built on rejection alone. There must be affirmation somewhere. But no one present (and/or dead) knows exactly where.