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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3338 | 2025-01-09 18:42:08 | 54.71 | 93.4% |
| 3277 | 2024-11-30 18:42:24 | 54.66 | 94.7% |