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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4186 | 2024-05-07 00:53:07 | 47.39 | 95.3% |
| 3996 | 2024-04-08 10:58:54 | 41.30 | 97.1% |