Writing stays on the screen now. Until this version, once what you had written grew taller than the space above the keyboard, pressing return gave you a line you could not see. The line was there, and it was saved with everything else. The page underneath it simply never moved, so you carried on writing into the part of the screen the keyboard was covering, and the only way to read your own sentence back was to put the keyboard away. It moves now. When you start an entry, and when you open an old one to change something. It moves only when you are writing at the end, which is the case where a new line can fall out of sight. If you go back into the middle of an entry to correct a word, the page stays where you left it: nothing is more irritating than a screen that jumps while you are fixing something small. If you subscribe, the screen behind the gold row in Settings is different too. It used to say Premium Member, which told you nothing you did not already know. It now says thank you, and it keeps the part that was useful: which plan you are on, what it costs, and the date it renews or ends. When the store does not tell us one of those, that line is left out rather than filled with a guess. You will find the writing change simply by writing. The other one is in Settings, in the same gold row. Nothing else moved. Your entries, your home and the blocks you arranged on it are exactly where you left them. ——— Saturday, 19 September 2026 It is early on a Saturday. There was a holiday here on Wednesday, so the week came up short, and a short week turns out to be a good one for small things: I spent what was left of it getting a little further with the app, and fixing the faults I kept running into myself. Most of what is above came out of that. None of it is a new feature, and I am content with that. Writing that disappears under the keyboard is not a feature that is missing. It is the app failing at the one thing it exists to do. Thank you for reading this, and for using it. M

The door to your subscription stays open now. Until this version the gold row in Settings blinked and put you back on the home screen. It had done that since the screen existed, so everything that lives behind it lived behind a door that would not stay open: seeing which plan you are on, restoring a purchase you had already made, cancelling. The other fix is about what happens when a plan ends. The app kept its own record of your access alongside the one the store keeps, and when the two disagreed it believed itself. That is the wrong way round for an ending, and it meant the app took a few days to notice. The store has the last word on that now. The rule that protects you did not change, and it is the half that matters: when the store answers slowly, or does not answer at all, nothing is taken away from you. A quiet server is not an ending. And Restore Purchases sits in that same row you can reach again. Nothing else moved. Your entries, your home and the blocks you arranged on it are exactly where you left them. ——— Monday, 7 September 2026 I published the configurable home on Friday, and then spent the weekend using it the way anybody else would. That is how I found this. I went into Settings to look at my own subscription and the app put me back on the home screen, twice, and I sat there for a while before I understood that it was not me pressing the wrong thing. It had been that way since I built that screen. Nobody had told me, and that is the part I keep thinking about. A door that closes quietly does not get reported. It gets given up on. So this version is small on purpose, and it is only doors. M

Your home is yours to arrange now. Until this version Kokoro Nikki opened on a screen I had arranged for you: a greeting four lines tall, a question, a reading of your last two weeks, and your own entries somewhere below all of that. You had to scroll past what the app wanted to say to reach what you came to write. Now the home is a list of blocks and you decide which ones are on it, and in what order. Your recent entries, the blank page, your threads, the question of the day, the pulse of the season. Turn any of them off. Turn all of them off, if that is what you want: an empty home is a valid home, and it says so in one line instead of asking you to fix it. The blank page is the part you will feel first. It sits on your home at its resting size, and it is the writing surface itself, not a shortcut to another screen. Touch it and it grows, everything around it folds away, and you are already writing. What you type there is the same draft the Write tab holds, with the cursor where you left it, so a sentence started on the home can be finished anywhere. The haiku comes back as a block of its own. When the blank page arrived it had quietly lost the only door it had. Now it has one, and a row in Me so it stays reachable even with the block turned off. Threads has a screen of its own, with all of them. Recent ones keep the card you already know. Older ones become a single line with their name, how many pieces they hold, and the season you last spoke in. Nothing closes, nothing is archived, and nothing is counted in days. You will find all of it behind Personalize, at the bottom of your home. ——— Friday, 4 September 2026 It is a quarter to eight and the week is over. I spoke with two people who use this. One told me that when they are overwhelmed and want to write, opening the app and finding the home full of things overwhelms them further. The other wants the opposite: a fuller home. They use the prompts, and they like seeing the pulse of their emotions. Both are right, and that is the whole reason for this version. A diary is a space of your own, and each person should be able to give it the intention they want. So now you choose what is on your home and what is not. I am taking today to rest. M

The entry you write when you first open Kokoro Nikki is yours from the moment you write it. That was always the promise, and it turned out I was not quite keeping it: if you decided not to subscribe, those words stayed on your phone and the app would not show them to you. That is fixed. Decline the price and you keep your entry, to read and to export whenever you want. Writing new entries still needs a subscription, and so do the reflections and the landscapes. I would rather say that plainly than dress it up. The questions your writing draws out are visible again too, even without a subscription. Sometimes it is worth seeing what you were asked, long before you are ready to answer. The plans screen reads more clearly. It no longer tells you your seven days are complete when you never had seven days. The buy button holds its height when you pick a plan, and the text that was too faint to read is readable now. ——— Tuesday, 2 September 2026 It has been raining for three days. This morning I had to go to my nine to five without my bike. It is raining, and hard. The day at the office was intense, and I am letting this release go from the back of an Uber. Small improvements, and a lot of hours put into the project. Will anyone read my What's New journal? I do not know. But I find it fun to write. I hope that you, wherever you are, enjoy using the app I made with so much care. M

You can answer an entry you wrote months ago. The two of them sit together in a thread, with the time between written in the middle: five months later, not five months ago. The old entry does not change. Nothing you have already written is edited, moved or rewritten. To find the entry worth answering, the app offers three groups before you type anything: entries with the same feeling, entries that share your words, and this day in other years. That search happens on your device. A thread names itself once it has two pieces, in the language you write in, and it never renames itself again once you have named it yourself. Under the name runs the emotional trajectory of the whole thread, anxiety to frustration to calm to hope, every stretch the same width, because a longer stretch is not a bigger one. A voice note you made should also still be there when you look for it, and several of the ways it could quietly not be are gone. Leaving the screen mid-recording no longer destroys the take, a recording you did not end yourself is kept, and the very first note you ever record now arrives like all the others. The microphone lets go when you leave the screen. If you pay for a year, we send one notification thirty days before the next charge, with the date, the amount and how to cancel. And if your subscription has lapsed, the emotional reading of your own diary is readable again. The entry was yours. So was the reading of it. No account, no sign-up, no form. Open it and write. Some things are better when nobody is watching. ——— Sunday, 30 August 2026 I work nine to five, Monday to Friday. Kokoro Nikki is what happens after that. The last version went out nine days ago, the threads were built in the days since, and this weekend went into the bugs they brought with them. There is nobody else here, so this is what the evenings are for. I am proud of where this is arriving. It is starting to look like itself. Moreno

Your diary now speaks your language, and we mean yours, not your phone's. Choose from twenty-five to write in, independently of the buttons, and Kokoro answers in the one you actually used. If your language was missing before, look again. You can lock the diary now, with Face ID or whatever your phone already asks you for. Unlocking it is not the only moment it asks: turning the lock off asks as well, because a lock anyone can switch off is a preference. And if the phone ever forgets how to recognize you, the lock steps aside rather than standing between you and your own words. That was not a hard decision. Voice notes are transcribed on your device first. On the rare occasion your iPhone cannot finish the job, we tell you plainly instead of inventing a sentence you never said. There is also a proper launch screen at last, which we had built some time ago and, through an oversight we find funnier than we should, nobody had ever actually seen. No account, no sign-up, no form. Open it and write. Some things are better when nobody is watching.

Beginnings matter. So we softened yours. After you write your very first entry, you'll now catch a glimpse of where this can go — the quiet watercolor your days slowly become, painted from how you've been feeling. It's just an example for now. Yours is still waiting to be written. And that very first entry now stays with you, the opening line of all that follows. We'll also ask what to call you, so your journal can greet you by name. And if you'd like Kokoro to speak to you a little differently — softer, plainer, more poetic, or just brief — that's yours to choose now, and to change whenever you wish. Quietly, behind the scenes, we also reinforced the locks. Your words are yours; we just made extra sure of it. A small window into what's ahead.

The subscription screen has a calmer, clearer look now — a quiet landscape that settles into the page, your plans laid out simply from monthly to yearly, and plain language about your 7-day free trial and what happens after it. Signing out is quicker too, and your free trial now stays with your account even if you open the app on another device. Stability and readability improvements throughout.

We took a quiet look at how Kokoro Nikki shows up in the world, and gave it a clearer voice. Voice journaling and emotion insights are now front and center. The kintsugi timeline, interior landscape, seasonal themes, and haiku mode are all here — the things that make Kokoro Nikki feel like Kokoro Nikki. Same calm space. Same gentle ritual. Just a little easier to find. For everyone who keeps showing up, thank you.

We took a quiet look at how Kokoro Nikki shows up in the world, and gave it a clearer voice. Voice journaling and emotion insights are now front and center — the things that make Kokoro Nikki feel like Kokoro Nikki. The kintsugi timeline, seasonal themes, and haiku mode are still here, exactly where you left them. Same calm space. Same gentle ritual. Just a little easier to find. For everyone who keeps showing up, thank you.

Your journal entries are now stored securely on your device using a local database — no more disappearing thoughts. After your first check-in, the app reads between the lines and shows you a real emotional analysis of what you wrote: the primary emotion detected and a reflection question to help you go a little deeper. The current date now appears above the text area — because sometimes you really do need a reminder of what day it is. Stability and performance improvements throughout the app. The boring stuff that makes everything else work. Thanks for writing. It matters more than you think.