Your Cocoon
The room you slip into. Everything you keep lives here, soft and close.
journal Β· lists Β· focus Β· the things you keep
for the thoughts you keep losing, and the days you forget to be kind to yourself.
One cozy room for your whole life: your journal, your lists, the keepsakes you always lose, and a quiet timer that hatches a butterfly when you focus. No accounts. No feeds. Your diary never leaves your phone.
coming soon to iPhone & Android Β· no account, ever Β· one soft note, then quiet
a peek inside
Real screens, no filter: the same gentle world the second you open it. Pull up a chair.



write a day Β· grow a garden Β· keep what matters π¦
a gentle truth
None of this is your fault. The rooms were just too cold to stay in.
Here's the thing nobody says kindly enough: you were never the problem. You showed up. This one hands you a warm room on the very first open: no setup, no empty page staring back. You just walk in.
none of this was ever your fault, the rooms were just cold π€
one world
Not an app full of tabs. A place, with soft doors you already know how to open.
The room you slip into. Everything you keep lives here, soft and close.
School, Us, Recipes: corners to live in, not folders to maintain. Leave the rest gently closed.
The pages you write and the things you draw. They feel like paper, not database rows.
Drop a screenshot or link and it lands sorted onto the right shelf, so you find it later.
Every small thing earns a butterfly for your Meadow and a little Nectar, kept, never lost.
Your caterpillar companion. Greets you, spins your cocoon, naps when you rest. Never scolds.
one world. one gentle loop. nothing bolted on. π¦
capture in three seconds
A thought, a screenshot, a tiny task, into Cocoon before it slips away.
This is where most journals quietly die: the gap between having a thought and writing it down. So Cocoon closed it. Tap the squishy + and a little menu blooms open. From anywhere else, the share sheet says "Tuck into Cocoon π«Ά" and it's saved. Capturing comes first; tidying can wait.
three seconds, honestly, that's the whole idea π¦
Tuck into Cocoon π«Ά
tap a task, watch it pop β¨
do Β· gently
All the task power you'd expect. None of the nagging you'd dread.
Under the soft surface, Cocoon is a real to-do engine: due dates, reminders, recurring tasks, habits, smart lists. It just refuses to bully you about any of it. Tap a task done and it pops with a little burst of petals. That's the whole transaction.
an overdue task isn't a failure: it's a flower that just hasn't opened yet π±
a Cocoon Session
Press and hold. Mochi does the rest.
Press & hold to spin π
go on, hold it a few seconds, Mochi's been waiting all day ππ€
your Meadow
Every butterfly you hatch flies in to stay.
Each finished session hatches a butterfly that flies in and stays. Habit streaks grow the flowers, fuller the more you visit, never empty when you don't.
The gentle currency you get just for doing things, spent on stickers, Mochi's outfits, Meadow dΓ©cor. Never bought with money. Never sold.
Streaks nap and wake. Mochi naps and never dies. No dead trees, no red badges, no guilt. A partner, never a boss.
Tap one to see the session that hatched it. Your focus history told as a collection you'd want to wander through, not a chart.
come back whenever, your garden waited, and it kept everything π¦
reflect Β· evening
A Paper feels like a page, not a row in a database, and the day you just lived half-writes itself, so the blank page never wins.
As the light goes peach, you open a Paper. Real paper grain, washi tape, a little date in handwriting. There's one gentle prompt waiting, never a blank, blinking void. Write a line, or a page, or nothing at all. Some days you just press in a photo and let it stand for the whole thing.
the day writes itself, you just get to read it back π€
Tuesday, a quiet one
cozy corners
Books, songs, films. Cocoon keeps the cover and what it meant to you. Never the words, never the audio, never the film itself. Just the feeling, pressed safe on its own little shelf.
the cover and your reflections, never the content. what you read, hear & watch is yours alone π€


Import what you already track elsewhere in a tap. Your export file is read right here on your phone, only a book's ISBN ever leaves it, to fetch a cover. Nothing is scraped, no logins, no API keys.
a promise, not a setting
No account. No server. No one reading over your shoulder.
Some apps ask you to trust them. Cocoon is built so you don't have to. Every Paper, every Doodle, every Keepsake stays right here, on your phone, there's no account to make and no server to send it to. We couldn't read your diary if we tried, because it never comes to us.
we built a diary we couldn't read if we wanted to π€
a promise, in writing
Cocoon will never have a bad day at your expense.
Your journal, your pages and Spaces, and full backup & export are free forever. We'd never hold your diary for ransom. Everything else (the garden, focus, the nooks, the widgets) is yours free for 15 days, then a tiny subscription keeps it open. Nothing is ever deleted; it all wakes up the moment you're back.
The subscription is deliberately, gently cheap, and fair wherever you live, never one rich-country price converted onto everyone. Backup, export and your app lock are never part of it. Keeping your diary safe isn't a feature we'd ever charge for.
no dead trees, no guilt, no red, just a place that's glad you came back π€
the real reason
Before Cocoon was an app, it was a way to keep them close.
Every soft place comes from somewhere. This one comes from three people. The whole world you just wandered through (the Spaces, the Meadow, the butterflies that hatch when you rest) was built so they'd always have a home in it. So before we ask you to land here, we want you to meet them. They're the reason the colors are this gentle.
The sunflower the whole world grew around. Everything here turns toward her, the way everything turns toward the sun. She's user one. She always will be.
user one π
The meadow's best-read soul. The Reading Nook and the Pagewing are hers, the butterfly that hatches where a book stays open too late, just like she does.
her Pagewing π
She painted the cocoon's walls in pastels before it had a name. Every soft lilac and blush you've seen scrolling down is, in some quiet way, a color she picked first.
her pastels π
for Sumu, Vii & Mimi, you were here before the first butterfly π¦
a few soft answers
The little questions, quietly answered. Tap any one to open it.
Soon, on iPhone & Android. Cocoon is still spinning, we're pre-launch, so there's no store link to tap yet. Leave your email and we'll send exactly one soft note the day it hatches. No nagging in between. π¦
Your journal, your pages and Spaces, and full backup & export are free forever. We'd never ransom your words. Everything else (the garden, focus, the nooks, the widgets) is yours free for a 15-day trial, then a small, fairly-priced subscription keeps it open. Nothing is ever deleted: subscribed or not, it's all still there, and it wakes the second you come back. π¦
No. Cocoon is local-first, there's no account, no server, nothing to sign into. Your Papers, your butterflies, your whole world live on your phone. Backup is yours to keep, encrypted with a passphrase only you hold, and exporting or locking your diary is always free.
Both. Cocoon is coming to iPhone and Android, whichever phone lives in your pocket, there's a soft place waiting for you. Leave your email and we'll knock the moment your one is ready. π¦
still wondering something? leave your email, we answer those softly too π
coming soon to iPhone & Android
No launch countdown. No "don't miss out." Just one note, when there's a door to open.
When Cocoon is ready, drop your email and we'll seal it inside a chrysalis, like a Chrysalis Letter to a future you who finally has a cozy room to keep things in. One soft note. Nothing more.
one soft note, then quiet Β· change your mind anytime, no hard feelings
Mochi waves goodnight π, night-night from the meadow, we kept your spot warm