off my chest.

some things need saying without becoming a record. off my chest. is a private page for the angry version, the scared version, the sentence you keep rehearsing but will never send. start typing. as the page fills, the oldest words cross the flame bar and leave... burning away, washing off in rain, crumbling to sand, drifting off as fireflies. writing and letting go happen in the same motion. nothing to manage later. nothing you write is saved by the app, written to a file, sent to a server, or included in analytics. there are no accounts, no ads, no tracking, no drafts, no history. the app keeps only your room settings. make the room yours. seven moods, from bonfire to midnight. choose how words arrive and how they leave. drag the mark to give the page more room, or less. let words go when they cross the bar, after time passes, when a thought ends, or when the page holds enough. hold a finger on the page, the whole screen warms, and after three seconds, everything burns. the exhale. when the last word is gone, one small count appears: how many words you released. then it fades too. no streaks. no dashboards. no reminders. what this is not. not a journal, journals keep things. not social, no one is listening. not a mood tracker, nothing is recorded. one small purchase. no subscription. no account. yours.