A stranger in my own 'home'

Call me dramatic or whatever, but today I realised one thing: Seven years of your life can count for nothing.
Seven years of my life, nearly 8200 hours, 492000 minutes, 29520000 seconds of my life spent under one roof...or should I say a conglomerate of roofs that form what was known as my school.

The place where which for seven years I spent at least 50% of my life (as sad as that seems, perhaps even more to be honest).

Now I'm the kind of person who loves school. Literally I loved school. It may have been tough and such a pain some days you just wanted to fake being sick, but the rest of the time, it was like a second 'home' - a place to live, learn, make friends, create your ideas about the world.

And I was sad to leave. Sad when in the summer, we had to say goodbye to the school and to the past in which I both reminisced and yet wanted to move forward from.

Well as fate would have it, I'm back.
I have to walk those halls again. Not as a student, but as an OG (Old Girl)....one problem....for me to actually walk those halls again I might need to actually get past the front lobby.

Spent an hour and a half...or maybe more sitting quietly and patiently for someone to get me or let me in, but no. No one came. No one bothered at all. I was branded 'the problem in the foyer'; Their words not mine, though I doubt 'they' thought I could hear them.

So yes, after spending a some much time at a place which I thought I knew, it turns out I know nothing at all, because the place I visited was no 'home' of mine. No memory of me exists there and now doubt they ever will.
In fact I am not even a stranger....strangers were treated with kindness and respect as they arrived...I was treated like a piece of tossed out garbage on the street, someone hoping that another would take care of it if they ignored it for long enough.

This from a place which prides itself on steadfast ties with alumni?

Well I guess that's a lesson learned...loyalty is dead.