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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 379 | 2025-05-23 00:58:00 | 55.31 | 93.9% |
| 124 | 2025-05-17 10:11:38 | 55.38 | 93.7% |