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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1040 | 2025-06-25 13:34:05 | 71.42 | 96% |
| 997 | 2025-06-22 14:00:23 | 73.55 | 99% |
| 956 | 2025-06-13 07:01:53 | 74.42 | 97% |
| 353 | 2025-02-27 20:50:36 | 63.55 | 96% |