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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 834 | 2024-03-25 11:30:50 | 70.88 | 97.8% |
| 17 | 2024-02-07 07:18:48 | 54.02 | 96.5% |