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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3726 | 2024-07-19 13:57:15 | 87.03 | 97.4% |
| 2609 | 2024-04-30 14:10:37 | 76.85 | 97.2% |
| 2172 | 2024-04-13 08:24:29 | 80.90 | 97.5% |