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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2056 | 2025-01-27 01:46:12 | 71.17 | 97.1% |
| 1187 | 2025-01-10 00:00:01 | 76.72 | 98.4% |
| 1083 | 2025-01-07 23:33:18 | 83.14 | 99.1% |