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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1105 | 2024-10-16 03:39:30 | 51.34 | 94.8% |
| 1095 | 2024-10-10 15:21:04 | 50.84 | 94.2% |