A look at the world through my eyes. Well, just part of the world.

My parents told me I had to come home on Halloween weekend for a family function.

I spent the following days visualizing all the Facebook photos I would never get the chance to be tagged in. My fear of missing out only worsened when I envisioned my planned costume, the “To-Do List” – a life-size Post-it note with assorted girls’ names scribbled on the front.

But as the weekend of all weekends neared, I began to think of my impending absence as more of a blessing.

Halloween weekend presents so much pressure to have a good time that it hardly ever lives up to expectations. I find it even more stressful than Valentine’s Day, and that’s saying something. My most memorable Valentine’s Day was spent watching “The Notebook” with my mother.

The biggest comfort of not being at school this weekend, though, was knowing I wouldn’t have to stress over whether or not my costume three costumes would be successful.

When I think back to my previous Halloween get-ups, none seemed to work out the way I hoped they would.

The first one that comes to mind was in fifth grade, when my friend and I decided to be Avril Lavigne and her drummer, respectively. This might have been a good decision for my friend (who received many compliments), but whenever we separated, I would just get confused for looking like a pudgy kid who hadn’t showered in a few days.

Fast-forward to high school, when my friends and I dressed up as contestants from “Legends of the Hidden Temple.” I was a Blue Barracuda, naturally, and I spent months perfecting my costume. When I showed up at school, nobody understood the mid-1990s Nickelodeon reference. One girl asked me if I was a “rollerblader.” First of all, I don’t think that’s even a thing. Second, “rollerskater” would have clearly been the more humorous choice.

My next costume fiasco was in my senior year of high school, when my friend and I dressed up as ketchup and mustard bottles. The only problem was that we didn’t end up going to the same Halloween party. I spent the entire night having people pout at me and say, “Aww, where’s your ketchup?”

I also didn’t appreciate people squeezing me all night.

Then I got to college and spent more than $50 on a Popeye costume. There weren’t many problems with this one, except people found the concept of me having muscles a bit too amusing.

Though it’s been a struggle for me to avoid thinking about all the Halloween celebrations I missed this weekend, I’m happy to know I saved myself some money and possibly some disappointment.

But if anyone is throwing Halloween parties next weekend, I might be forced to draw a lightning bolt on my forehead, put on shabby clothes and say I’m an alcoholic Harry Potter.