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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 998 | 2025-06-08 09:32:59 | 78.16 | 98% |
| 938 | 2025-06-07 14:46:52 | 73.06 | 98% |
| 835 | 2025-06-02 06:51:46 | 82.40 | 98% |
| 614 | 2025-05-28 12:24:31 | 68.57 | 97% |