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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 112 | 2024-05-04 00:46:57 | 68.90 | 96.8% |
| 44 | 2024-04-23 20:13:16 | 66.55 | 96.6% |