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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1478 | 2025-01-15 07:17:54 | 46.51 | 93.2% |
| 1132 | 2024-03-13 15:51:28 | 66.23 | 95.9% |
| 1060 | 2024-03-07 15:35:33 | 61.93 | 94.7% |
| 1002 | 2024-02-22 16:43:42 | 62.24 | 94% |