why glim
exists
talking to most AI feels like filing a report. you type a paragraph of feelings and get a bulleted list back. you share your worst day and something summarizes it. the answer is fine — the feeling of being met is missing.
glim was built backwards from a single question: what if the reaction came before the reply? so glim’s whole body — and its whole world — is the interface. it brightens when you’re bright, droops when you’re heavy, and the sky above its little planet washes with your mood while it finds its words. you feel heard before you’re answered.
being understood should be something you can see. that’s the whole mission — everything else is decoration.

