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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1142 | 2024-05-25 15:50:18 | 60.63 | 97.2% |
| 1123 | 2024-05-25 05:22:16 | 63.29 | 97.1% |
| 1042 | 2024-05-09 09:39:15 | 53.86 | 95.6% |