for work that won't switch off
You're home. Your brain's still at work.
Still replaying the meeting. Still rereading the message. Still dreading tomorrow.
Download on the App Store Free to download. Private by design. Yours, not your company's.why nothing's worked
"Don't check email after six." "Leave it at work." You've heard it. You've tried it. It doesn't hold. Your brain doesn't take orders — it takes a ritual. Five minutes, every evening, and the day actually closes.
your evening, in three steps
Say what stood out — type it, tap a mood, or say it out loud. See it named back. Set it down. That's the whole thing.
step one · say it
A sentence or two. Too tired to type? Tap how the day felt, or record a voice note. A quiet night still counts.
step two · hear it back
No advice. No "have you tried quitting." Just what was hard, what went fine, and what's actually yours to carry into tomorrow.
step three · set it down
A breath, a moment that resolves, and the day is put down. One more evening. The evening's yours.
what it adds up to
Not a score. Not a streak that punishes you. Just a record of every night you came back — and it only ever grows.
0 Miss a week. Miss a month. The sky is exactly as full as you left it.
some nights you don't want to keep
Some nights are so bad you don't want the words to exist. So burn it. Crush it. Smash it. Watch it come apart in your hands — and then watch it rise, and take its place in your sky.
You can throw away what you wrote without throwing away that you showed up.
it's out of your hands.
it's part of your sky now.
it won't come back to you. and the evening still counts — you showed up for it.
seems like Priya has come up a few times lately — is this a thing you're carrying?
the Marcus thing
came up three evenings this week
the reorg
settled · tap to look back
it keeps track, so you don't have to
Not a database of your colleagues. Just the honest observation that Priya has been in three of the last five evenings — offered gently, as a question, that you can wave away.
When something's finally done, you set that down too. It stays in the record. It stops following you around.
your week
Who came up the most. Which nights sat heaviest. What eased by Friday. Not a dashboard of your feelings — a short, honest look back, and then you set the week down too.
The practice deepens. Miss a night and a rest day covers you — no streak lost, nothing to lose.
some nights, setting it down isn't enough
Most nights you name the day and put it down. But some carry a knot — the conversation that keeps replaying, the one you're dreading tomorrow. Those don't loosen by being put away. They loosen by being worked through.
Type it, or say it out loud. It writes back in sentences, not bullet points — and it already knows what you told it Tuesday. No catching it up.
The 1:1 you're dreading — run it once here first. It plays them the way they actually are, from what you've told it. So the real one goes better.
Paste the Slack, the email, the message you've reread nine times. See what's actually being said under the softeners — and write the reply you won't regret at 2am.
The dread used to wait for Monday. Now it's most nights. Five quiet minutes at the end of your day — and a sky that remembers every one of them.
Download on the App Store Free to download. Private by design. Nothing here ever touches HR.