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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 142762 | 2024-03-26 17:06:43 | 127.12 | 98.4% |
| 137495 | 2024-02-09 18:16:47 | 111.96 | 97.7% |
| 137268 | 2024-02-05 22:22:53 | 108.04 | 97.1% |