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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2298 | 2024-09-20 16:31:27 | 66.27 | 96.8% |
| 2029 | 2024-07-08 20:21:41 | 58.80 | 95.8% |