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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2255 | 2025-05-15 20:18:25 | 57.70 | 96% |
| 2001 | 2024-04-10 10:40:53 | 76.91 | 97.6% |