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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4527 | 2025-05-29 22:08:40 | 97.72 | 98.3% |
| 4265 | 2025-04-02 20:51:13 | 79.21 | 96.2% |