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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 783 | 2024-11-19 12:23:52 | 78.69 | 96.7% |
| 185 | 2024-10-19 14:43:12 | 65.48 | 95.1% |