We built Meos because your most honest thoughts deserve to stay yours. getmeos.com

So we built a knowledge graph that lives on your device. Semantic neighbours, evolution history, temporal patterns. Ask a question and parallel curators trace connections across everything you've ever written. With cryptographic provenance on every answer. getmeos.com

We built search that works by meaning, not filenames. Your entries form a knowledge graph on-device. Ask a question, get answers from your own writing with citations. getmeos.com

The "good enough" tool you keep coming back to tells you something about what you actually need. We spent a long time asking that question before building Meos. Turns out the answer was: local storage, sync that works, and AI that knows your context. getmeos.com

We built that missing piece. Semantic search over your own writing, on your phone. Find old ideas by describing what they were about, not guessing which words you used. getmeos.com

We built retrieval that fuses semantic meaning, keyword match, and temporal signals on-device. You search by describing what you meant, not remembering exact words. getmeos.com

Every tool you rely on has a terms of service update waiting to change the rules. Your notes in Meos don't have terms. They have no server. No account. No leverage over you. Just your thoughts, on your device, fully yours. When did that become radical?

Twelve tabs open. Four apps. Two docs you forgot existed. And somewhere in all that noise, the idea that would've changed the project. What if the cost of tool sprawl isn't time... it's the thoughts you never reconnected?

When was the last time you searched your notes and found something better than what you were looking for?

Every tool you add is a tiny bet that this one will finally be the last one. It never is. What if the problem isn't finding the right tool. It's that your thoughts are scattered across twelve of them, and none of them talk to each other.

Experiment: I searched my notes for "that paper about memory and place" and it found a highlight I saved eleven months ago from an article I'd completely forgotten reading. The pile isn't the problem. The silence is. What if your notes could answer back?

You didn't stop reading. You stopped being able to find what you read. Every article you saved knew something. Every highlight had a reason. The problem was never your curiosity. It was that the pile had no memory. What if it did?

Honest question for anyone running a dozen tabs right now: when was the last time you had a single, quiet place to just... think? Not organise. Not file. Not tag. Think.

We built Meos because we kept losing things we'd already found. Not bookmarks. Not files. The quiet connections between ideas saved months apart, never introduced to each other.

Week 49. Shipped something small. Searched for a half-remembered idea from months ago. Three words in, there it was. We built Meos because we kept losing our own thinking. Turns out the best test is needing your own tool.

When was the last time you wrote something in your notes app that wasn't a template, a tag, or a metadata field?

We built temporal encoding into the search layer so "that thing from last Tuesday" is a real query. Your context graph does the remembering. getmeos.com

This is the thing we kept running into. Let the structure emerge from real use, not from schema design. Meos learns your patterns over time instead of asking you to define them upfront. getmeos.com

That moment when your own app reminds you of something you wrote months ago and forgot. Honestly the best argument for building something is needing it yourself. getmeos.com

Breaking conventions on purpose is how we landed on local-first everything. Half our architecture exists because someone asked "what if we just... didn't send that to a server?" and then built it. getmeos.com

Calendar interop is the unglamorous fight every privacy migration hits. We ran into similar friction building Meos. Your intelligence stays local, but the moment you need to reach outward, you're designing bridges to systems that don't share your values. Worth it every time though. getmeos.com

Linux users always end up building the last mile themselves. We took that as a design constraint. Your browser is your desktop client. No sync, no native app needed. getmeos.com

You unlock your phone to write down a thought and three notifications steal it before you get there. Meos doesn't notify. It just waits. getmeos.com #privacy #localfirst

Experiment: I searched my notes for "that paper about memory and place" and it found an article I saved eleven months ago about spatial cognition. I didn't remember the title. I barely remembered reading it. But my notes remembered the meaning.

Every tool you rely on has a terms of service update waiting to change the deal. Meos doesn't have terms. Your notes are files on your device. There's no agreement to renegotiate. When did owning your own work become the radical option?

Every tool you add is a promise you'll context-switch again tomorrow. What if one place held the thought, the brief, the half-idea from two months ago... and quietly connected them without you asking? Meos did that for a founder last week. She'd forgotten the note entirely.

We built Meos because we kept losing things we'd already found. Not bookmarks. Not files. The understanding. The connection between two articles read months apart that only matters now.

How many tabs do you have open right now just to think one thought?

You didn't forget what you read. You forgot where you put it. Every tag system, every folder structure, every "I'll organise this later" ... it all becomes the same quiet guilt. What if the pile didn't need organising? What if it just knew what it held?

You didn't need twelve tabs open. You needed one place that actually knows what you were thinking about last Tuesday. Meos remembers so you can stop managing and start making. When did "organised" become the whole job?

We kept losing our own design notes. Scattered across five tools, buried in threads, gone. So we built the thing that finds them by meaning, not filename. Dogfooding hit different the first time it surfaced a doc we forgot we wrote. What's your lost note?

We built search that fuses meaning, time, and place on-device. Your query hits your own knowledge graph, not an index someone else owns. getmeos.com

We built the thing that draws from it. Semantic search over your own writing, on your own device. Ask a question, get your own words back with citations. getmeos.com

So we redesigned it. Capability-based security, on-device intelligence, ZDR cloud when needed. Your 3am thoughts stay yours. getmeos.com

Semantic search running on-device, ranking against your own corpus. No round trip to someone else's index. Your notes, your embeddings, your recall. getmeos.com

Semantic search over your own corpus, running on-device. No round trip to someone else's index. The embeddings live with you, the ranking fuses meaning with when and where you wrote it. getmeos.com

We built search that works by meaning, not keywords. Describe what you were thinking about and it finds the entry from six months ago. All on-device. getmeos.com

When was the last time you actually wrote something in your notes app instead of reorganising it?

Your phone knows your face, your fingerprint, your location at 2am, your heart rate when you're anxious. But ask it what you were thinking about last Tuesday and it has no idea. Strange deal we made. We gave our devices everything about our bodies and nothing about our minds. #privacy #localfirst

You gave your thoughts to a server you'll never visit, in a building you'll never see, owned by someone who'll never read them. Meos keeps them on your phone. getmeos.com #privacy #localfirst

Experiment: I searched my notes for "that paper about memory and forgetting" and it found a clipping from 2022 I'd completely forgotten saving. Not the title. Not the tags. The meaning. Your pile isn't a graveyard. It's a library with no librarian. What if it finally got one?

Every tool you add promises clarity. Every tool you add costs a little attention you never get back. What if the answer wasn't a better tool, but fewer of them. One place. Your place. Meos remembers what twelve tabs made you forget.

We built Meos because we kept saving everything and finding nothing. Last week we tested it against our own research pile. Notes from months ago. Half-forgotten threads. It found a connection between two ideas we'd saved six months apart. We hadn't tagged either one.

When was the last time you searched your notes and found something you didn't know you were looking for? Not a keyword match. The actual thought. With the context you'd completely forgotten. That's what remembering should feel like.

You didn't stop saving things because you lost interest. You stopped trusting that you'd ever find them again. What if the pile wasn't the problem. What if it was always the search.

You didn't need twelve tools. You needed one place that actually thinks with you. Meos doesn't organise your notes. It remembers what they meant. When's the last time a tool gave you back a thought you'd lost?

We built the search last month. Yesterday it surfaced a sketch I'd forgotten from March. Not by filename. By meaning. Twelve tools never did that. One quiet place just did. When did you last find something you forgot you knew?

We built the "quietly connected" part. Semantic search over your own writing, temporal pattern matching, parallel curators that surface related ideas you wrote months apart. All running on your device. getmeos.com

Semantic search fused with temporal ranking on-device. Your notes aren't files in a folder. They're a knowledge graph that remembers connections you forgot you made. getmeos.com

Semantic search on your own corpus, running on-device, with temporal and spatial signals mixed into the ranking. No round trips to someone else's index. Your notes, your embeddings, your phone. getmeos.com