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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5108 | 2025-06-01 19:46:56 | 112.50 | 98.6% |
| 3553 | 2024-08-17 21:04:01 | 95.08 | 96.7% |
| 1757 | 2024-03-17 07:45:51 | 99.04 | 97.7% |