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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 994 | 2024-03-28 14:42:33 | 77.26 | 99.1% |
| 980 | 2024-03-26 14:58:40 | 69.00 | 97.1% |