You did everything they told you to.So why does it feel like somebody else picked this life?
A life without a direction still moves. The job fills the weekdays, the phone fills the gaps, and the years pass either way. LifeGuide is one place to put all of it: the thoughts, the worries, what you actually want. Out of that, slowly, you build a guide for your life.
Free while it is in early access. No card. A missed day costs nothing.
That makes a real account, but it lives in this browser only. There is not yet a way to move it onto a Google login, so treat it as a look around rather than a start.
What this is
One place for all of it.
Your thoughts, your worries, your goals, the person you are trying to become. Right now they live scattered across a notes app, a to-do list, and the 2 a.m. ceiling. Here they live together, and because they live together, they add up: you put your days in, and it slowly builds into a guide for your life. Who you are, where you are going, and what today has to do with it.
The place for your life, and the guide it slowly becomes.
The shape of a day
Two check-ins a day. Silence in between.
You wake up executing instead of deciding, because tomorrow was set last night. No buzzing, no badges, no feed to fall into.
At night
You set tomorrow
Tomorrow’s board gets built from your real tasks, and you leave a note for morning-you, who does not trust systems but does trust the person who knew all the excuses in advance.
In the morning
You read it back
Your north star sits pinned above the day. The note you wrote last night is the first thing on the screen. Then the board, and the one thing that actually matters.
Whenever your head gets full
You let it out
One tap and you are recording. Say it badly, say it for ten minutes. It is kept, and what was heard is shown back to you so you can tell whether it landed.
How the guide gets built
Out of what you actually do, not what you claim.
Not a personality quiz. Not a form asking you to rate yourself out of ten. The questions are about behavior, because the self doing the self-reporting is the one with the blind spots.
01
The Door
One question to start: what do you want out of life. “I don’t know” is a designed entrance, not a failure state. Most people don’t. You sort it out one question at a time.
02
Guided spoken exercises
Sittings like The Thing Only You Do This Way, What People Come To You For, and The Stranger Test. You talk, it steers at what it does not yet have, and it may end a thread with nothing rather than manufacture a finding.
03
Your own words, kept
Every brain dump stays. Each sitting gets mapped into what it was actually about, and the map is a view you can open, not a verdict filed somewhere you cannot reach.
04
Patterns across weeks
What you keep circling, ranked by how many separate sittings it turned up in. Including, and this is the useful part, the things you struck out once and said again anyway.
05
A coach, when you want one
There is an AI coach in here, and it is a feature rather than the point. It opens every call remembering the last one, you talk to it out loud or by typing inside the thought you are already in, and when you vent it holds the space instead of handing you a fix.
06
Direction you can climb
The few things that actually matter, each with a why you wrote yourself, laddered down to what is on the plate today. It syncs with Todoist if that is already where your tasks live.
Why you should believe any of it
The AI in here has to show its work.
A place holding your whole life has an obvious failure mode: software that flatters you into staying. So the AI inside it lives under rules. These are not promises about our intentions. They are enforced in the code, and each one costs us something.
Proposes, never writes
When it thinks it has learned something about who you are, it files a proposal with the exact wording it wants to use. You approve it, reword it, move it, or decline it. Nothing about your identity is written by the machine.
In your inbox
Proposed for Values: “You keep choosing work you can point at over work that pays more.”
Approve · Reword · Move · Decline
Allowed to find nothing
An exercise can end without a conclusion, and a conversation can close with no next step. Both are legitimate endings, on purpose. An app that always finds a profound insight in you is an app that is generating them.
The end of an exercise
No clear pattern here. And that is a real answer.
Nothing was written to your Core
Every claim traces to your words
Ask what it can see and it lists every piece of context it holds, in the same view that shows what it had to drop for space. Struck through, then said again in words, because a tidy list that hides the gap is the failure this exists to catch.
What I can see
About you · What you are pursuing · The entry you have open
Dropped for space: your life pillarsand it says so, rather than showing a tidy list
The boundary, said plainly: this is direction, not therapy, and no app replaces people. What it replaces is the silence where your thinking currently circles.
The deal, stated out loud
“Give me two weeks. A morning and a night check-in, two minutes each, phone or computer. And when your head gets full, let it out: at least seven or eight brain dumps. It takes about a week of real communication to understand somebody. By day seven I’ll start showing you what I see.”
That is the whole ask. Two weeks, four minutes a day, and your head emptied out when it needs to be. If it has shown you nothing by day seven, you will know, because you will have read everything it saw.
Free while it is in early access. No card. A missed day costs nothing.
That makes a real account, but it lives in this browser only. There is not yet a way to move it onto a Google login, so treat it as a look around rather than a start.
Where it actually stands
Built today, and what is not.
Written out because the alternative is you discovering it after signing up. This list is checked against the capability registry in the repo, not against what we hope to have finished.
Working today
Morning and night check-ins, with tomorrow’s board set the night before
Brain dumps by voice or text, kept forever, with what was heard shown back
Ten guided exercises you run out loud with the Coach
The Life Blueprint: eighteen questions answered in your own words
Patterns across sittings, including what you dropped and came back to
Live spoken calls that remember your earlier calls
A goals board with a why on every item, and optional Todoist sync
The approval inbox: nothing enters your record without your yes
“What can you see?” answered with the real list, dropped items included
A per-feature log of what the AI cost, and a picker for which model runs
Not built yet
Noticing on its own when your days have drifted off your north star
Reading your calendar
Reaching out to you off-app when it has something specific to say
Writing to your vision board for you
Your daily writing filling in the Core by itself
Future Self
These are on the roadmap. None of them work right now, and you will not find them in the product if you go looking.