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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6818 | 2025-02-05 08:52:46 | 51.27 | 99.4% |
| 6817 | 2025-02-05 08:49:11 | 48.51 | 97.9% |