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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1557 | 2024-06-04 09:45:14 | 75.68 | 97.9% |
| 1052 | 2024-03-11 13:10:58 | 70.33 | 97.8% |
| 793 | 2024-03-04 12:07:01 | 69.37 | 98% |
| 414 | 2024-02-23 15:32:57 | 62.15 | 96.9% |