说实话，我自认为我不太了解她。我不了解世界上的大部分人。人们虚伪、会隐藏，而我并不擅长分析和理解自相矛盾的人。似乎如果我需要尝试了解某人，我需要一些非常模板式的、比较具象化的参数去尝试理解性格一些维度。这很反人类，大部分人常识性的、直觉性的对其他人的感知和推测，好像我需要一些理论尝试解释才能理解，而不能完全靠直觉、或者在我看来就是想当然。我并不了解她，但我知道她给我什么感觉。

刚开始认识篠原夫人的时候，我没有特别的印象。只记得她在帮Daiga搬进我大三住的town house，她带了一些食物，性格感觉很安静内敛。但在后来的相处里，我意识到她会很暴躁、逃避责任、看起来似乎在做很多很重要的事情、但其实看到结果会知道并不需要这么久的准备、喜欢在家庭主妇这个角色中找到满足感，但也很容易因为自己小儿子的尖酸刻薄攻击自己做的不够好而感到不安。她一直到十一月才开始完全展现她的这一面。说实话，当时我的感觉就是她自己的家里、联合她的小儿子、在她丈夫的默许下，把我每天关在家里虐。这个形容是非常主观的、但也是真实的。我当时感觉自己回到了小时候，一时间失去了好好沟通的能力。

她对小儿子的包容几乎是没有底线的。我把我的剧本之前分享给她看，我确实不记得同意她把剧本分享给她小儿子看，我只是在她分享之后被通知。她的小儿子和他女友回复了我一大页反馈，口吻如同领导在给批示、把我批的一文不值，说我带着浓浓的对别人的误判。事后，Izumi说她没想到会这样、并且道歉，然而后来又以 “每个人都有不同的观点” 而敷衍过去。

我也对您和您儿子Ryo也有观点，您来接受一下（另，我不介意发文章群发）：您对待小孩没耐心、会大吼大叫发脾气、随时爆炸。您一直让我有种在被“雌竞”的感觉，好像谁做饭比较好是问题、怎么使用厨房、您知道的更多也是您可以用来给自己找补自信、建立权威的机会。我以为完全是我自己可以决定的事情，显然只要我人在这个家里、都不能决定。我甚至觉得你很婊，对不起，我不在乎我刚刚说了什么。我曾经很喜欢和尊重您，但您的种种反应和选择，在知道我陷入抑郁了还非得让我出来吃饭、假笑和你们拍全家福、你好发这些“家庭和美”的照片给您所谓的其他家庭主妇朋友。你不善良，你虚伪到骨子里，我现在深刻的理解到了这一点。我已经对您失去了所有的尊重，但我相信您在我离开之前就知道了。

ChatGPT Translation:

To be honest, I don’t think I really understand her. I don’t understand most people in the world. People are hypocritical, they hide things, and I’m not good at analyzing or making sense of contradictions in people. It seems that in order for me to try to understand someone, I need very template-like, concrete parameters to map out certain dimensions of personality. It’s very anti-human. What most people can intuitively or instinctively grasp about others—I feel like I need theory to even attempt to explain, and without that, I can’t rely on gut feeling. Or to me, gut feeling just feels like baseless assumption. I don’t understand her, but I do know how she makes me feel.

When I first met Mrs. Shinohara, I didn’t have any particular impression. I just remember she helped Daiga move into the townhouse I lived in during my junior year, brought some food, and seemed quiet and reserved. But as we spent more time together, I realized she could be quite irritable, avoid taking responsibility, always seemed to be doing something very “important”—but once you saw the actual results, you’d realize it never needed that much preparation. She finds satisfaction in the role of a housewife, but is easily unsettled by her younger son’s bitter and cutting criticisms, which make her feel she’s never doing enough.

She didn’t fully show this side of herself until November. To be honest, what I felt then was this: in her own home, with the help of her younger son, and under the tacit permission of her husband, she locked the doors and emotionally abused me every day. That description is highly subjective—but it is also real. I felt like I was back in my childhood. I temporarily lost the ability to communicate properly.

Her tolerance for her younger son is almost without limits. I had previously shared my script with her—I honestly don’t remember giving her permission to show it to him. I was only informed after the fact. Her son and his girlfriend sent me an entire page of feedback, in a tone like they were my superiors giving a performance review—ripping it apart, telling me I was projecting all kinds of biased assumptions onto others. Later, Izumi said she hadn’t expected that response and apologized. But afterward she brushed it off with “everyone has different perspectives.”

And I also have some thoughts about you and your son Ryo, if you care to hear them (and I don’t mind posting this publicly): you have no patience with children, you shout and explode at any moment. You’ve constantly made me feel like I’m in some kind of passive-aggressive “female competition”—as if cooking is a contest, as if using the kitchen a certain way, or knowing more about housework, somehow gives you a chance to recover your self-esteem and assert dominance.

I thought those things were up to me. Clearly, as long as I’m in this house, nothing is really up to me. Honestly, I even think you’re a bitch. Sorry—not really. I don’t care that I just said that.

I used to really like and respect you. But your reactions and your choices—even after knowing I was falling into depression, you still insisted I come out for dinner, smile for family photos, and help you pose for those fake “happy family” pictures you send to your fellow housewife friends.

You’re not kind. You’re fake to the bone. I understand that now. I’ve lost all respect for you. But I believe you already knew that before I ever left.