March 1, 2025
Product Ideas
For the past few weeks, I’ve been chasing a simple but persistent question: How can AI become a true thinking partner—not just organizing thoughts, but actually helping generate and refine them?
This didn’t come from nowhere. At first, I was struggling to find the best way to capture my random ideas and inspirations. Sudden thoughts are momentary, so I need a tool to relive the moments. Traditional note-taking tools feel too rigid. Brainstorming apps are built for teams, not individuals, and they don't work well on mobile. Mood-tracking apps log emotions but rarely help users understand them. And AI-powered tools? Most are glorified productivity assistants—great at summarizing, but uninspiring when it comes to actual thinking.
Initially, I envisioned Thunk as a freeform canvas—something like FigJam but for personal thought processing. The idea was to let users dump their ideas, freely connect them, and have AI act as a conversational thinking partner. With logging sensory input, Thunk recreates the environment of that inspiring moment.
I initially found the idea of reliving moments through sensory cues compelling—leveraging psychology to trigger memories through sounds, images, and other stimuli. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized its limitations.
A phone simply can’t recreate the richness of real sensory experiences. The warmth of sunlight, the scent of a specific place, the texture of an object—these are all essential to true immersion, yet impossible to fully replicate on a screen. Even with AI curating the most relevant cues, the emotional depth of a memory is often tied to the physical world, not just digital fragments.
While the concept of memory recall through AI is still interesting, I realized that instead of trying to artificially recreate past moments, it might be more meaningful to help users make sense of them—to process, connect, and evolve their thoughts rather than just replay them.
To refine my direction, I mapped out existing AI tools that claim to support ideation, self-reflection, or knowledge processing:
The pattern was clear: existing tools either focus on structured organization or passive tracking, but none of them truly adapt to how a person thinks. Even Miro AI, despite its emphasis on ideation, is designed for structured, team-driven workflows rather than personal cognitive flow.
Interacting deeply with ChatGPT made me realize that AI isn’t just a tool—it can be a catalyst for thought, a thinking companion that adapts to my style, helps me break down ideas, and constantly challenges my assumptions.
At first, I treated it like a smarter search engine. But as our conversations evolved, I noticed something unexpected: it wasn’t just providing answers, but reshaping how I think. Instead of giving me direct solutions, it prompted me to question my own reasoning, nudged me toward new perspectives, and even helped me organize my scattered thoughts without me explicitly asking for it.
This made me realize that ideation and reflection aren’t linear processes—they require ongoing inspiration, challenge, and iteration. Traditional productivity tools—whether they’re structured note-taking apps, rigid mind maps, or templated planners—often assume a clear, step-by-step workflow. But for people like me, whose thoughts come in bursts and tangents rather than neat outlines, these tools feel suffocating.
AI, on the other hand, thrives in ambiguity. It can meet me where I am—whether I’m brainstorming, untangling emotions, or trying to piece together a half-formed idea—without forcing me into a predefined structure. This is what makes AI so uniquely powerful for non-linear thinkers. Instead of requiring me to conform to a system, it learns from me, adapts to my thought process, and provides just enough guidance without boxing me in.
That’s the foundation of Thunk—an AI that doesn’t just record thoughts but actively engages with them, guiding creativity, fostering exploration, and adapting to the user’s unique way of thinking. It’s not just another note-taking tool or brainstorming assistant—it’s something that resonates, something that truly thinks with you.
As much as I rely on ChatGPT to refine my thoughts, I’ve realized that it’s still confined by the nature of chat itself. Conversations are ephemeral—ideas surface, evolve, and then disappear into a never-ending scroll of messages. There’s no persistent structure, no intuitive way to revisit and visually connect past insights.
AI is great at reacting, but it doesn’t inherently provide a space for deep reflection and long-term thinking. Every time I return, it’s like starting from scratch. My past thoughts exist somewhere, but they aren’t organically resurfaced or connected in a way that mirrors how human thinking actually works.
That’s why Thunk needs to exist—not just as another chatbot, but as a true thinking companion that blends AI’s adaptability with the structure needed for creative exploration. A platform where ideas aren’t just spoken and forgotten, but captured, evolved, and linked together over time. Something that gives AI memory, context, and a space to facilitate real thought rather than just responding in the moment.
Chat alone isn’t enough—but AI-powered thought spaces could be the future.
Thunk isn’t just another note-taking tool or AI assistant—it’s designed to engage with thoughts, not just store them.
Now that I’ve refined Thunk’s core purpose, the next step is designing how AI interacts within it. How do we make an AI feel helpful yet unobtrusive? How do we avoid the pitfalls of previous AI chat-based assistants that feel too generic or too prescriptive? The UX can be gamified, but to what level it makes the thinking process organic?
These are questions I’ll keep iterating on. But one thing is clear: Thunk isn’t about productivity—it’s about processing. It’s about giving people a space to explore, expand, and truly engage with their thoughts.
To be continued.