your life changes.
keep the changelog.
record the moments. when a chapter feels finished, name it. over time, recommit becomes a version history of your life.
android now · iphone waitlist. no ads, and nothing about you is ever sold.
↑ this one works. tap a commit, or write your own.
the three rules
1 · a bad day counts the same as a good one.
writing “i slipped” is worth exactly as much as writing “i did it”. no red, no warning, no lecture. the app writes it down and moves on, because a record you are scared of is a record you stop keeping.
2 · the quiet gets written down too.
go three days without saying anything and the app puts that in the list itself. it does not tell you off. it just shows the number, and the number is enough. a quiet stretch is a chapter like any other.
3 · nothing tidies itself up.
the app will never archive an old month, round a bad year down to a number, or quietly reset you after a slip. what happened stays where it happened, at the date it happened, for as long as you keep the app.
you can remove a line you wrote by mistake — but that is your hand, never ours, and the rest of the record does not move to cover the gap.
three directions
build something. reduce something. notice something.
the app asks which, once, when you start a thread — because the same number means different things depending on the answer. it then keeps whichever moment was yours, pinned, for good.
build. pick the guitar up two years later and the gap becomes the fact. you never have to explain where you were — the number already said it.
reduce. the clock starts when you last did it, not the day you installed anything. a slip a week in still reads six months, because that is what happened.
notice. some things you only want a record of. nothing is counted up or held against you — you are just paying attention.
the five words
the whole app is these five things. that is everything you need to know.
a year becomes readable
not a score. a version history.
privacy
scrambled on your phone, before it ever leaves.
this can hold ordinary moments and deeply private ones — the things you have told nobody. so your phone scrambles every word before it sends a backup. what lands on our computers is unreadable on its own.
we keep the key too, attached to your account — that is the only reason signing in on a new phone brings everything back, with no code for you to lose. so we could technically unscramble it, and we would rather say that than pretend otherwise. the honest version is on the privacy page.
what costs money
your chapters are yours.
try the complete product for 30 days, starting from your first real entry — not from the day you install it. no card, and nothing charges automatically.
after that, premium keeps the changelog moving. everything you have already written stays yours. your complete history stays readable, searchable and exportable whether you subscribe or not. there is no boundary on your own past, and nothing of yours is withheld on the server to enforce one.
start with one honest moment.
the chapter can name itself later.