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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 82 | 2024-09-02 14:35:09 | 61.73 | 96.2% |
| 55 | 2024-06-30 06:34:35 | 54.05 | 96.8% |