Why journal?

I’ve tried journaling more times than I can count. Every time, I’ve started with big ambitions — to write down everything I think and feel.

And every time, it ends the same way: after a few days, I lose momentum, and the habit quietly fades away.

I’ve bought apps, fancy notebooks, even sleek pens. I’ve really tried to motivate myself to get my life in order through journaling.

But it’s those very ambitions that have tripped me up. I made journaling into a project — something time-consuming and effort-heavy. It stopped being something I wanted to do and became just another thing I felt like I should be doing.

For a long time, I thought journaling meant planning my life: writing to-do lists, tracking habits, setting goals — even measuring how much water I drank.

And while those things can be useful tools for growth, I’ve realized they don’t belong in my journal. They’re completely different practices — more about control than reflection.

The real turning point came when I read the book Jakten på miljonerna by “100miljonersmannen”

In one chapter, he describes how he asks himself a few simple questions each day — not about what he got done, but how his choices and behavior reflect the kind of life he wants to live. Less focus on the details of the day, more focus on what actually matters in the long run.

That stuck with me.

I wrote down four key questions that I felt could help me reflect on how I spend my time — not in terms of productivity, but in terms of impact. How my choices affect my ability to be a good dad, a good partner, a good person.

And it clicked. The format felt natural. Honest. Sustainable. Something I could actually see myself doing, day after day.

It gave me space to reflect. To notice things I’d done well — and things I might want to handle differently next time.
It made me more open with myself, and more willing to ask the hard questions:
Am I spending my energy in the right places? Am I moving in the right direction?

How I use Microjournal

I call it micro journaling because it’s intentionally small and lightweight — built to make the threshold as low as possible.

The whole idea is to make it quick and friction-free. No pressure to be deep or insightful.
You can write whatever you want.

Some days, I just type: “Today I did nothing.”
And that’s fine. Maybe it was just a quiet day. The important part isn’t what I write — it’s that I write.

I usually spend around five minutes thinking about the day. Almost every time, something surfaces that I would’ve otherwise forgotten — a conversation, a feeling, a small win, or a moment of tension.
By giving it a few minutes of attention, and maybe writing it down, it sticks with me.

Over time, these entries have become like little mental bookmarks.

I’ve caught myself revisiting situations I didn’t handle well. And because I had written about them, they stayed in the back of my mind.
The next time something similar happened, I could respond differently.

Microjournal doesn’t require structure — it gives me structure.

It helps me catch my own patterns. It gives me perspective.
Even on the messy, uneventful, or hard-to-define days — especially on those days — it gives me a sense of continuity. That today mattered. That I showed up.

Why I built Microjournal

I didn’t build Microjournal to become a better planner.
I built it because I needed a space to just think clearly for five minutes a day.
Not to solve everything. Not to track every task. Just to be a bit more honest with myself — consistently.

There’s this idea that if you’re going to journal, it needs to be thoughtful, poetic, or at least productive.
But honestly, some of the most important things I’ve written have been messy, short, even a little pointless.

And that’s the point.

What you write doesn’t matter nearly as much as what you notice while writing. The value is in the reflection — the words just help give it shape.

Microjournal isn't just for people who feel lost, stressed, or overwhelmed — even though that’s where many of us start.
It’s for anyone who wants to get closer to themselves. And honestly, I think most people do — or at least need to.
To pay attention to the moments that pass by unnoticed.
To reflect — even briefly — on what matters.

You don’t need a plan. You don’t need the perfect words.
You just need a few minutes, and the willingness to show up.

Thanks for reading.