There's a particular kind of frustration that comes from wanting something simple and never quite finding it.
I've used Notion. I've used Obsidian. They're remarkable pieces of software — genuinely — but every time I sat down to write, I found myself arranging databases, configuring plugins, organizing a system about writing instead of actually writing. They give you a hundred concepts. Blocks, backlinks, properties, relations, views. Somewhere under all that architecture, the blank page gets lost.
I wanted the blank page back.
PaperLab is what came out of that stubbornness. It opens instantly — not "pretty fast," but instantly, the way a light switch works — because your words are already on your device, sitting in local storage, waiting for you. The cloud exists, somewhere in the background, doing its quiet work of keeping things in sync. But it never makes you wait. It never interrupts. You open the app, and the cursor is already there, patient as always.
The privacy part matters to me more than I can easily explain. I didn't want to write a privacy policy full of reassuring language. I wanted to make it architecturally impossible for anyone — including me — to read what you write. So I built end-to-end encryption into the core. You set a passphrase, and from that moment, your documents are sealed before they leave your hands. The server holds only noise. I couldn't read your words even if I wanted to. Your passphrase stays on your device. It never travels. It never will.
When you share something, you're offering a snapshot from your own copy — a deliberate act, like handing someone a letter. Until you choose to update it, the world sees only what you've given.
I don't really know how to talk about the times we're living in without sounding tired. Everything is AI this, AI that. Every app wants to generate your words for you. I understand the appeal, but I wanted to build something that goes the other direction — something that simply holds space for your thinking, in your time, without trying to be clever about it. A room with good light and a closed door.
This is the tool I reach for every morning. If it becomes yours too, I'd be glad.
It's free, and I intend to keep it that way for everything that matters. If anything ever changes, it will be gentle and gradual — I promise the basics will always be yours.
If you'd like to talk — about PaperLab, about tools you love, about anything, really — I'm at likelakes07@gmail.com. I won't always reply quickly, but I'll always read what you send. Writing deserves that much.