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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5684 | 2024-07-11 21:48:53 | 94.01 | 97.3% |
| 4831 | 2024-05-22 21:18:51 | 96.85 | 97.6% |