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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 22148 | 2024-03-30 23:11:36 | 104.30 | 98.1% |
| 22078 | 2024-03-23 18:06:42 | 106.80 | 98.3% |