I wonder if I can write this history, or if on every page there will be some sneaking show of a bitterness I thought long dead. I think myself cured of all spite, but when I touch pen to paper, the hurt of a boy bleeds out with the sea-spawned ink, until I suspect each carefully formed black letter scabs over some ancient scarlet wound.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 14356 | 2024-06-10 01:03:57 | 46.22 | 93.4% |
| 13433 | 2024-03-27 20:44:03 | 45.62 | 93.6% |