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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 553 | 2025-03-03 19:47:11 | 72.83 | 98.3% |
| 441 | 2025-02-21 04:55:11 | 70.99 | 98.6% |
| 206 | 2025-02-06 18:28:28 | 64.20 | 97.1% |