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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1871 | 2025-07-16 06:24:08 | 51.42 | 95% |
| 1377 | 2025-06-28 05:23:00 | 46.16 | 96% |
| 651 | 2025-05-31 11:25:30 | 51.16 | 96% |