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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 633 | 2024-03-23 19:48:11 | 57.91 | 96.7% |
| 573 | 2024-03-17 19:51:56 | 60.18 | 96.3% |