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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 320 | 2025-01-02 18:49:07 | 96.30 | 98.3% |
| 252 | 2024-07-01 18:28:34 | 96.95 | 98.6% |