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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 314 | 2025-06-16 07:43:20 | 47.82 | 95% |
| 309 | 2025-06-15 18:27:48 | 45.37 | 94% |
| 260 | 2025-06-10 11:55:41 | 48.06 | 95% |