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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 147 | 2024-12-17 15:34:39 | 68.14 | 96.3% |
| 64 | 2024-07-23 14:53:08 | 63.47 | 97.1% |
| 33 | 2024-07-15 11:06:32 | 70.42 | 97.3% |