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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 188341 | 2024-03-13 19:22:31 | 106.17 | 97.6% |
| 184301 | 2024-02-10 23:03:22 | 109.83 | 99.4% |