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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 67 | 2024-10-18 12:08:02 | 61.23 | 96.4% |
| 51 | 2024-10-17 11:04:46 | 57.54 | 95.7% |