I have written five or six hundred pages a year, by hand, for thirty years. Notebooks in drawers, in boxes, in three countries.
And here is the thing nobody tells you about writing everything down: you still forget it. The page holds it. You don't. I could describe a night in perfect detail eight days ago and not find it again this morning.
So I stopped trying to remember and built something that remembers for me. Not a diary. A second brain that talks back — that has read every morning you have ever written and can tell you, kindly, that you have been circling the same problem since March.
That's the whole idea. Back up your brain, then let it tell you what it found.