High Fidelity

I’ve been thinking with my guts since I was fourteen years old, and, frankly, I think my guts have shit for brains.

Then I lost it. Kinda lost it all, you know. Faith, dignity, about fifteen pounds.

Where's the superficial? I was, and therefore am, dim, gloomy, a drag, unfashionable, unfanciable, and awkward. This doesn't seem like superficial to me. These aren't flesh wounds. These are life-threatening thrusts into the internal organs.