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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1186 | 2024-08-09 16:25:32 | 79.39 | 98.1% |
| 1125 | 2024-06-28 09:12:36 | 79.22 | 96.8% |