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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5606 | 2025-01-14 16:19:56 | 113.70 | 97.4% |
| 5595 | 2025-01-09 14:57:10 | 129.37 | 97.8% |