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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4306 | 2024-08-23 02:28:52 | 125.11 | 98.2% |
| 4241 | 2024-07-21 04:23:36 | 124.28 | 97.6% |
| 1398 | 2024-03-31 23:30:04 | 129.27 | 97.3% |
| 1348 | 2024-03-31 21:46:28 | 109.71 | 95.9% |