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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 666 | 2024-06-08 14:57:13 | 58.07 | 95.9% |
| 195 | 2024-04-04 15:29:09 | 53.00 | 97.8% |
| 186 | 2024-04-01 10:22:31 | 58.41 | 99.1% |