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 |
---|---|---|---|
9966 | 2024-03-10 18:25:59 | 102.43 | 98.1% |
9693 | 2024-02-08 16:44:18 | 99.11 | 97.8% |
9536 | 2024-01-31 15:39:51 | 116.80 | 99.4% |