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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2348 | 2025-05-25 05:29:12 | 93.34 | 99.1% |
| 629 | 2025-01-10 03:21:06 | 84.27 | 98.9% |