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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 12294 | 2024-06-17 08:13:14 | 97.73 | 98.1% |
| 11730 | 2024-04-12 14:46:36 | 75.54 | 95.3% |
| 11078 | 2024-02-04 12:44:53 | 75.16 | 97.2% |