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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3643 | 2024-10-08 11:24:52 | 65.47 | 94% |
| 3527 | 2024-08-22 11:13:37 | 59.57 | 93.8% |