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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 151 | 2024-12-02 13:05:56 | 72.25 | 98.3% |
| 19 | 2024-09-22 17:32:26 | 70.60 | 99.1% |