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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5831 | 2024-12-10 01:09:24 | 105.74 | 98.1% |
| 5435 | 2024-09-24 23:12:10 | 103.87 | 97.1% |
| 4792 | 2024-08-18 06:34:26 | 108.61 | 97.1% |