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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 938 | 2024-12-25 07:28:04 | 52.17 | 95.8% |
| 425 | 2024-10-16 15:51:51 | 48.84 | 95.9% |