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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 574 | 2025-02-10 14:59:34 | 101.10 | 99.2% |
| 477 | 2024-08-06 16:41:18 | 97.06 | 97.6% |