I don't know why I'm here. I mean, I do. I'm nervous, I guess. Anxious. I don't sleep that well. And my hands... they're fine now. It's like when you have a problem with your car and you go to a mechanic and it's not doing it anymore. Not that you're a mechanic. I guess a lot of people must come here worried about the bomb. Is that true? It's a common nightmare, people say. I read it in a magazine. My mother always told me that it wasn't polite to talk about yourself. She passed away recently. I guess I already said that.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 7953 | 2018-05-03 20:55:40 | 112.17 | 98% |
| 6990 | 2018-04-17 22:35:05 | 98.73 | 98% |
| 6272 | 2018-04-06 17:21:39 | 92.19 | 99% |