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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1372 | 2024-06-24 17:13:16 | 68.07 | 97.4% |
| 1332 | 2024-06-05 04:41:33 | 76.06 | 97% |
| 808 | 2024-03-28 04:00:32 | 63.48 | 96.9% |