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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5415 | 2025-03-17 03:27:20 | 84.88 | 97.8% |
| 4953 | 2024-10-17 02:33:49 | 86.97 | 97.1% |