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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1286 | 2024-05-23 14:57:15 | 62.46 | 96.1% |
| 926 | 2024-03-31 19:02:34 | 77.35 | 97.5% |