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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 513 | 2025-03-26 12:42:34 | 63.61 | 95% |
| 419 | 2025-03-10 10:19:06 | 59.97 | 97% |
| 292 | 2025-02-22 02:51:18 | 61.60 | 98% |
| 255 | 2025-02-10 14:02:31 | 69.39 | 99% |