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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 662 | 2024-09-22 00:50:28 | 79.68 | 97.1% |
| 500 | 2024-09-13 14:14:54 | 70.47 | 94.8% |
| 9 | 2024-08-15 01:59:42 | 55.71 | 94.4% |