I have no reserves when I say that, at the conception of the idea, driving a total of two hours to and from Lafayette from Baton Rouge for the sole purpose of voting sounded a tad ridiculous.

And even though I get to write about and castigate my readers for withholding their votes, the same devil rests on my shoulder and his reasons are the same ones we all tell ourselves come election season.

One guy’s a liar, the other’s a liar who hasn’t yet run a country, and anyone else who calls themselves a contender is basically just LARPing politics. Even the third-party candidates I philosophically align myself with are too removed from the political process to pack any punch in the pilot’s seat.

So either I hold my nose at the booth and support someone I think will do the least amount of harm, or I vote with my heart and throw my vote to the wayside: Sounds kind of like not voting at all.

The former of these two options was the most tempting. Voting is supposed to be noble; it’s supposed to be me, a concerned citizen, throwing my say into this massive entity that happens to influence most things on this planet. How could I feel any sense of accomplishment knowing I had lied in the booth and voted for someone I did not think was right to run the country?

And I’ll continue. What if the person you agree with doesn’t seem fit to run a country, whereas as those you disagree with at least know how to work the system? Being an undecided voter can be a forest of uncertainty, and what’s more, you actually have to get registered and leave your home to participate.

Needless to say, the odds are stacked against the institution, especially for young voters. But when it came down to it, the voice on the other shoulder had pretty simple advice for me:

Start acting like a damn adult.

And in that single phrase, the dude had a solid point that beat everything I threw at it.

I was being childishly utopian, for one. Not finding your dream candidate is no excuse to withhold your vote. It’s a “no true Scotsman” argument, and more than half the time it’s only used to justify not taking sides. We can make “Giant Douche vs. Turd Sandwich” jokes all we like about the two-party system we find ourselves stuck in, but you know who changes things? Politicians. Know how they become politicians? We tell them they can.

Anyone who stands by this argument is simply a troll — they’ll chastise you for your selection without making one of their own. Don’t listen to these political hipsters, as they’re only trying to rationalize not having to participate like every other plebeian. It’s like whining about the music charts while not supporting their favorite artists by buying their material.

And then they bring up the electoral college: those who vote on behalf of their state’s population — while not officially obligated to align themselves with it. So how much does a vote matter if it’s only a suggestion to a politician elsewhere, who doesn’t have to take my word for it?

I can think of many things that would have far less impact than a vote, and one of them is an u-ncasted vote. And despite your excuses, not voting is not a statement, it’s the absence of one.

“You might be making a statement, but the statement that gets across is you shouldn’t listen to me or my voting group,” said Daniel Colvin, president of the University’s College Democrats chapter. “The statement that’s made is, ‘Just don’t listen to me.'”

Colvin is entirely right, and as cheesy as many arguments in favor of voting seem — though only clichéd because they’re correct — most people who encourage voting don’t care who it is you’re voting for to begin with. The necessity to take part simply is. Lafayette Parish’s clerk of court Louis Perret is among the state’s countless workers charged with conducting this “Superbowl” of elections, and he is incredibly knowledgeable of the logistics behind our state’s election season.

“We’re going to spend $256,000 in Lafayette whether one voter turns out or 144,000,” he said. “I don’t care who they vote for, I just want them to vote.”

But even in having this conversation, we’ve made the first mistake when it comes to voting: Don’t argue it. Our nation was literally constructed so that we could vote and only operates when we do. My best advice is to forget the odds and always vote with your head.

Vote for the candidate who best represents you, because that’s the point of voting. Even if he doesn’t stand a chance in the election or in office — looking at you, libertarians — the nation will at least see that he’s got a point and a following.