If you're in crisis
Mune isn't the right place. In the United States, call 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline on 988, any hour. If it's an emergency, call 911. They're trained for this.
Not in the United States? Find a line in your country
If you got this far, you probably want more than the summary. Here's the longer explanation of what Mune does, why I built it the way I did, and what it costs you when the trade-offs come due.
You open the chat. You type something. Anything. The first thing that's true.
The AI writes back. It doesn't tell you you're doing great. It doesn't say "that sounds hard." It doesn't have a name. It doesn't pretend to be your friend.
What it does is read what you wrote and ask you a question. Or it repeats your thought back to you in different words, so you can see it from outside your own head. The point is to help you figure out what you're actually thinking, even when you don't know.
It can feel like talking to a friend who doesn't judge. That's the experience. The AI itself isn't your friend. It has no character, no name, no backstory. The warmth comes from the structure, not from a persona.
Nothing you type trains the AI. Messages get deleted by the AI company the second the reply is generated. No retention. No review queue. No "we may use anonymized" clause buried in a policy.
Therapists, psychologists, and the people who write about mental health are always talking about how good journaling is for you. They're not wrong. The problem is what actually happens when you try.
You open the notebook. You grab the pen. You feel like you're doing something good. Then you don't know what to write.
Or you do know what to write, but many of us are afraid of being judged. By ourselves. By anyone who might find it later. So you write something else, or nothing.
Or you do write. For two days. You feel like you've started something. Then you forget. Or stop. Three weeks later you remember the notebook and feel worse than if you'd never started.
Mune handles the part where you don't know what to write. You have a chat first, the way you'd text someone. The AI helps you figure out what's actually on your mind. When you're ready, you save the chat as a journal entry. The AI drafts it from the conversation. You edit. You save. Or you skip the chat and write a fresh entry from scratch, like a regular diary.
You can read your entries later, change them, or delete them. You can export everything to a file on your computer whenever you want. They're yours, encrypted on your device before they leave it.
Picture writing a letter, putting it in a locked box, and being the only person with a key. That's what happens every time you type something into Mune. Your phone scrambles the words first. The locked box gets sent to a server. The server holds it. Nobody can open it but you.
If someone hacked into the Mune servers tomorrow, they would not get to read a single thing you wrote. They would just get a pile of locked boxes they can't open.
I cannot read your stuff. Not because I promise not to. Because the app is built so I can't. There's no master key. There's no admin panel where I can peek. There's no "we may use anonymized" loophole. I built myself out of the room on purpose.
The trade-off, said plainly: if you forget your password and lose your recovery code, your data is gone. There's no "forgot password, send me a reset link" for the data itself. That is the cost of being the only person who can read it. Pick a password you won't lose. Save the recovery code somewhere safe.
The chat works a little differently. When you talk to the AI, the message has to leave your phone for a moment so the AI can read it and write back. The AI company we use (Anthropic, the people behind Claude) is contractually required to delete the message the moment they answer. Nothing is kept. Nothing is used to train anything. The Mune server doesn't keep a copy either.
Patterns is the third feature. It's not in the alpha. Once your journal has enough entries to actually surface anything, Patterns will show what keeps coming back across them. Themes that repeat. Energy that shifts week to week. Relational dynamics you wouldn't see one entry at a time. It's not built yet. There's no release date. We labelled it now so you know what's shipped and what isn't.
Then there are things that will never be here. Mune isn't therapy. It isn't a crisis tool. It isn't a friend. It isn't a fix. It's a place to think out loud with a tool that refuses to perform care.
If you're in crisis right now, please reach out to someone trained for it.
Mune is in pre-alpha. The first group is fifty to a hundred people, picked by hand. Get on the list and you'll hear when it opens.