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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2138 | 2025-01-23 03:50:40 | 70.70 | 95.7% |
| 1798 | 2024-06-13 00:44:18 | 65.08 | 95.1% |