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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1190 | 2025-03-10 14:45:04 | 66.95 | 95.4% |
| 171 | 2024-09-10 16:46:05 | 51.03 | 94.8% |