Remembers your life. Keeps it yours.

allMe checks in with you daily, writes your week, and answers questions like “which restaurant did we go to on Mum’s 60th?” — searching everything you've written, said and photographed, all of it on your phone.

iPhone · Pre-MVP, building now · Free tier, then $59.99/year

487 memories kept
Today
Wed 19 Aug
How was today?
From last week
You were nervous about the meeting with Sarah. How did it go?
Answer
Not now
Tomorrow · 6pm
Text Marcus about dinner
You said you'd sort it before he leaves for Berlin.
Remind me
Not needed
Two years ago
The last night in Lisbon
19 Aug 2024 · 6 photos
487 memories kept this year
Today
Ask

The product

Three seconds to keep something.
One question to find it again.

You never choose “note or diary” — allMe files each capture and shows a chip you can flip. Voice, photos and text all land in one inbox.

Ask
Which restaurant did we go to on Mum’s 60th?
Vico, on the corner by the church. Mum cried when the waiters sang.
14 March 2024. You booked it six weeks ahead — the only Saturday everyone could make.
14 Mar 2024
1 entry
Try asking
When did I last see the dentist?
What did I promise Sarah?
Ask your life anything
Ask Answers come from your own entries, with the entry attached.
Cancel
0:38
Ran into Marcus at the market. He's moving to Berlin in the spring — we said we'd get dinner before he goes.
Diary
Change
Transcribed on this iPhone
Capture Speak. It transcribes on the device and files it for you.
Sunday story
Your week
11 – 17 August
9
memories
14
photos
3
voice notes
A good week, mostly. Two wins at work and one hard Tuesday you didn't want to talk about. Marcus came up twice.
One thing I noticed
Every good day this month started outdoors.
Sunday Story Your week, written for you — the payoff that keeps people coming back.

A check-in that remembers

It follows up on what you said last week. That continuity is the moment a trial becomes a habit.

Answers nothing else has

“What did I promise Sarah I'd do?” Your diary knows. Your email doesn't.

Notes live here too

Recipes, wifi passwords, quotes. One inbox, sorted automatically — no filing.

Private by construction

Entries and the search index never leave your phone. We can't read your diary — we don't have it.

The problem

We forget our own lives — and every tool built to fix that either quits on us or reads our diary.

87% of journaling apps are abandoned within a week Blank pages, guilt streaks, no payoff
44% of users lose motivation after breaking a streak Many uninstall that same day
7,500 paying users at the AI-journaling category leader Nobody has won this yet
And the trust problem is now concrete. In April 2026 a complete Talkspace therapy transcript was subpoenaed and produced in court. A cloud diary is legally discoverable — which is exactly why the most private thing people own is the last thing they'll put in an AI app.

Why now

2026 is the first year the private version is buildable.

Apple now gives third-party apps free on-device foundation models with image understanding, free best-in-class on-device speech-to-text, and free privacy-preserving cloud compute for small apps. Small embedding models and mobile vector search matured in the same window.

“We can't read your diary” becomes architecture

Not a policy a subpoena or an acquisition can undo. The entries and the AI's search index both stay on the device.

The cost structure inverts

Our marginal AI cost is near zero while incumbents pay per token for every user — so we can run the category's most generous free tier and still profit.

The market

Every competitor is AI-native or actually private. None is both.

Digital journaling is a $6–7B category growing about 11% a year. The revealing part is who hasn't won it.

Competitive positioning map Two axes: AI-native horizontally, actually private vertically. Paper journals and The Architect are high on privacy but low on AI. Apple Journal, Pixel Journal and Daylio are low on both. Day One is mid on both. Rosebud and ChatGPT-as-a-diary are high on AI and low on privacy. The top-right quadrant, high on both, holds only allMe. The empty quadrant AI-native ⟶ Actually private ⟶ Paper journal The Architect · $299/yr Apple Journal · free Pixel Journal · free Daylio Day One · $75/yr Rosebud · $108/yr ChatGPT as a diary allMe
Positions are strategic judgements, not measurements. The point is the shape.
WhoWhere they are in 2026How we win
Apple Journal
free
Solid basics, preinstalled. No chat, no cross-entry synthesis, no notes fusion. Don't fight the basics — win on memory and synthesis, and out-ship an annual release cycle.
Google Gemini
free
Searches your Gmail, Photos and Drive — your data exhaust. They never hold the self-authored narrative: what you felt, decided, promised yourself.
Day One
$75/yr
AI bolted onto a 15-year-old journal; encryption has documented gaps. AI-native from day one, lower price, a genuinely on-device index.
Rosebud
$108/yr
AI-native leader, ~7,500 payers. Cloud-stored; mid-entry paywalls users resent. Memory over coaching, never interrupt an entry, provable privacy.
Finch
$30M ARR
A self-care pet, bootstrapped, no AI at all — the retention champion. Not a rival, a lesson: emotional stakes beat feature count.
allMe
$60/yr
AI-native and on-device: daily check-in, weekly stories, ask-your-life search. The empty quadrant, at a fifth of what the only private competitor charges.

Privacy

The promise is a build constraint, not a marketing line.

All content and all embeddings live on the device. The only things that ever leave: encrypted backups to your own iCloud, and — when you ask a question — the few excerpts needed to answer it, sent to a model that doesn't retain them.

  • Four privacy levels per entry. Normal, hidden from AI, this-iPhone-only, or locked behind Face ID.
  • No accounts, no ads, no data sales. Zero tracking SDKs, now or ever.
  • Export everything, always free. We never hold your memories hostage.
Why the index has to be local: published research recovers roughly 92% of short texts exactly from their AI embeddings. “We only store vectors” is effectively “we store your diary” — so ours never leave the phone.
Privacy Level
Set it per entry. Change it any time.
Normal
Backed up · searchable
Hidden from AI
Never searched by AI
This iPhone only
Don't sync with my other devices
Locked
Face ID to open

Business model

Free where it builds trust. Paid where it creates depth.

Free, forever

Unlimited capture, on-device search, memories resurfaced, every privacy feature, full export. A paywall never interrupts an entry in progress.

$6.99/mo · $59.99/yr

Unlimited memory chat, Sunday Stories and monthly letters, semantic photo search, encrypted multi-device sync.

Later: things people gift

Shared journals for couples and families — which recruit their second user by design — and printed year-in-review books.

Worst-case AI cost runs about 10–15% of revenue, and realistically far lower because on-device models absorb most of the work. Embeddings cost nothing, forever. No ads, no data sales — the trust is the business.

The Foundry

What we bring to the eight weeks — and what we intend to leave with.

The bootcamp runs problem clarity → market mapping → customer discovery → traction → pitch. Each stage already has work behind it or scheduled for it. We arrive with a thesis; we should leave with evidence.

StageWhat's already hereWhat the eight weeks add
Problem clarity A specific, evidenced problem — retention data, and a court production that makes the trust risk concrete. Confirmation from people who actually quit journaling apps.
Market mapping A researched competitive map with a demonstrably empty quadrant. Pricing sensitivity and switching-cost tests against Day One and Rosebud.
Customer discovery Four personas drawn from category research, weighted to lapsed journalers. 20+ interviews, with the lapsed segment as the primary target.
Traction A working architecture and a 16-week build plan already costed. Landing page, 300 waitlist signups, and a TestFlight beta in real hands.
Pitch One-liner, why-now, moat and business model articulated. A pitch carrying a retention number instead of a claim.

The eight-week plan

Weeks 1–2
Customer discovery20+ interviews: current journalers, lapsed journalers, new parents, privacy-conscious professionals. The lapsed segment knows exactly why these apps fail.
Weeks 3–4
Demand signalLanding page live and 300 waitlist signups, testing three positioning lines: privacy, memory, daily ritual.
Weeks 5–6
Working proofA TestFlight build of the core loop — capture, index on device, ask your own life a question.
Weeks 7–8
Evidence30–50 beta users. Measure day-seven retention and check-in completion; test willingness to pay at $59.99/yr.

The one number we intend to bring to Catalyst: day‑seven retention against a category baseline of 8%.

Beat it and the thesis is proven. Miss it after two iterations and the give-back thesis is wrong — which is worth knowing, and is exactly the kind of answer eight weeks should produce.

Questions we expect, answered short

  • Apple ships this next year — then what? Apple ships basics annually; we ship the memory loop weekly. Their corpus is your data exhaust; ours is your narrative.
  • Isn't this a feature, not a company? The artifact is the company: an owned, exportable life archive with a subscription and, later, printed books. Companions get abandoned; archives compound.
  • Why will you retain users when 87% quit? Because we invert the give/get ratio from day one — and we'll have the number to show for it.
  • Isn't on-device AI worse? For classification and dialogue it's now sufficient; heavy synthesis routes to privacy-preserving cloud with only the excerpts needed.

Stage and fit

Pre-MVP. Product strategy, competitive research and technical architecture are complete and written down; the build starts now. Industry: Software, SaaS & AI-enabled Products.

Deliberately not positioned as health or therapy — four US states restrict AI-therapy marketing, and allMe is a memory and reflection tool, not treatment.

Founder
Leonard Eshun — [ONE LINE ON YOUR BACKGROUND AND WHY YOU CAN BUILD THIS]

[WHY THIS PROBLEM IS PERSONAL: the moment you tried to remember something and couldn't]