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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1133 | 2025-10-07 17:34:44 | 75.18 | 97% |
| 999 | 2025-08-14 21:32:07 | 77.64 | 97% |
| 492 | 2025-06-02 08:23:37 | 79.61 | 97% |