There are times when I nod along to someone, saying, "Ah, right, exactly." But the truth is, I don't really know. I'm just pretending. Sometimes, I even convince myself so well that I forget I'm faking it, and my body and responses just go on autopilot. In those moments, my unstoppable, instinctive self and my rational mind float apart. I'm left flustered, not knowing what to do, just anxiously tapping my feet—hoping it all stops soon.

Why does this happen? Is it because I don't want to look like a fool? Sure, there's a subconscious desire to avoid embarrassment, but there's a more fundamental reason.

First, it happens when I lose focus because I don't understand the question. Maybe the topic was too deep and complex, or maybe it just fell outside my scope of understanding. Either way, when you listen to someone with fading concentration, their words just wash over you like water. And then, like magic, absolutely nothing remains in your head. When this happens, no matter how late it feels, you have to ask for their patience and ask again. It's never embarrassing to ask multiple times until you can clearly grasp it yourself.

Second, it happens when the speaker is an expert in a certain field, so I subconsciously trust and agree with whatever they say. Accepting someone's words unconditionally like this might expand my knowledge, but it strips away the chance to sharply critique and verify it. That's why we need to use these moments of absorbing claims as a starting point—we have to study on our own, think deeply, and then have the conversation again. Only then does it truly become mine, my own thought. You can climb to the height of someone's shoulders through imitation, but standing tall on your own two feet is entirely up to you.