One tap. Ten seconds. Yours alone.

One required tap, and five optional steps

Great, Good, Okay, Low, Difficult. That is a complete entry. If you want more, there are up to eight feeling words, three one-to-five ratings for energy, stress and sleep, and a prompt to write against — each one skippable, none of them nagged about. The whole flow is deliberately free of advertising, and so is the screen straight after it.

Five faces that differ in shape

Each point on the scale has its own drawn expression, its own silhouette and its own word before it has a colour. The calendar reads in grayscale, and at the size a month grid draws them the geometry is what you recognise, not the hue. Large text, high contrast and reduced motion are each a single switch.

Observations, never advice

Every insight is a fixed rule with a minimum number of entries behind it, and it can only ever describe what you recorded — “Saturday has been your steadiest day” rather than anything about what to do next. The app will not predict, diagnose, prescribe, or tell you what a pattern means about you. That boundary is enforced by a content validator, not left to good intentions.

No account, no server, nothing uploaded

There is no sign-up and no backend. Your entries live in a file on your phone. We cannot read them, cannot back them up, and cannot recover them — which is the trade for the fact that nobody else can either. Delete everything is one control in Settings and it means exactly what it says.

A printable page you could hand to a therapist

Built on your device: a date range, your averages with the direction of each scale spelled out, your mood over time, how your days fell across the five states, the words you reached for most, the observations, and every word you wrote, unedited. It states on every page that it describes a record rather than diagnosing a person, because a page gets separated from its document.

A gap is not a failure

There is a run counter, and there is no way to buy it back. Selling a streak repair would make the number matter more than the habit, and would quietly punish the missed day the app spends the rest of its copy telling you not to worry about. Missing a day changes nothing you have learned.

Moodly is free. There are no purchases. It is supported by advertising, and the one place you will never meet any is the check-in itself — the six steps and the screen after them carry nothing. Elsewhere there is a banner along the top, an occasional full-screen ad when you move between sections, and optional videos you start yourself in exchange for a fuller set of observations, extra prompts, a longer chart range, or the printable summary.

Declining a video always leaves you exactly where you were. Nothing you have already written is ever behind one, and no mood, feeling word or rating is ever gated.