Going back... what a mess

I hate going back to that place.
I guess it’s not their fault but my own. If anyone’s fault at all. Its just that, shouldn’t it be easier? A place where your own life went away, where your soul changed and grew and tried to be happy. It just that after almost 15 years of being in a place, shouldn’t they know you a bit? Shouldn’t they care about you? And then what really happens is the following; girl steps in, woman asks what she wants, does she have an appointment or is someone waiting for her, how has your mother been? I haven’t seen her in ages… Well, everyone’s here still, you should speak with A… oh, wait, she’s coming over.
That’s when they lost me, after 15 years and she talked to me at the door!!! Ok. Not even her office (such a mess there) not that little place where they keep teachers in (where all the people I wanted to see was) no, the door.
Any how, its weird seeing how the people that should remember you the most because they made your exams, they spoke to you as an obligation and opened to door of your classroom every day for 3 years at 6:45 in the morning doesn’t really care. I know we are mostly obligations and still, its weird. It is because the ones that gave you one class, the ones that had to look after you for only 2 hours a week only for a year, they care about you enough to ask how are things, what’s been up with your life, are you coming over to ask for a job? Already?? Say hi to your parents and come back soon.
I guess we live our lives inside institutions all together but, I guess I rather know that it is only a manner of earning money than having it disguises as lovely dovey caring schools.