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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 534 | 2025-06-04 10:36:53 | 67.18 | 97% |
| 390 | 2025-05-31 19:13:14 | 66.42 | 97% |
| 240 | 2025-05-28 13:12:26 | 61.56 | 96% |