“Fan Mail”
By John McGondel

August 2003- Independence, Ohio

Dear John:

Somehow I am convinced that you can read this, although I suppose it doesn’t really matter since we both know that we both can read into each other’s minds. For otherwise, how could you have always been able to understand my intentions? (As I have always been able to understand yours.

You see John, when I was only twelve years old I first caught on to the fact that only Charlie truly understood the inner meanings of your poetry. That’s when I knew that it would be up to me to carry out your wishes, because Charlie couldn’t do that for you from jail. You and Charlie, you two are the only ones who ever really figured it out. These shrinks in here couldn’t figure out why a monkey scratches its ass. PhD’s. MD’s. Too much education and not enough common sense.

Well, anyway.

Your first wife wasn’t all that bright was she? And that second one, whoo boy what drug were you on man when you married her? She somehow was able to convince you that she knew you. Then she manipulated you into believing that you knew her. And we both now know don’t we that the real problems started right there and then. For both of us John, for both of us. And those other three pals of yours tried to understand you, but they weren’t brave enough to really get into it were they? And that’s the real reason the band broke up huh? None of them had the brains or the guts to do what you wanted them to do…

But you knew that I did. You told me as much in your lyrics. I felt your isolation, alienation from society, and your desolation at the thought of the human condition. Your hopelessness and your fear. When you cried at night, I cried also. Even thousands of miles away I felt and heard you crying in the terrifying darkness of your soul’s anguish. Your tortured mind reached out and beckoned to me each time that the demons tormented you.

Your pain must have been legendary, even in hell. Your suffering was unbearable for me to feel. It became unendurable for each of us, so I had to stop it didn’t I? For one of us at least? That is what you really wanted, wasn’t it...

But I was strong for both of us John. I knew what you wanted and I knew that you could not do it by yourself. They say that I became you and that I did what I did because there could not be two of us existing at once. Like I said, no common sense in the whole lot of them. Prison Psychiatrists, they should be studying themselves instead of wasting society’s time and money coming up with foolish, pointless and irrelevant theories about us.

You see, John, I knew that you could not live in this world any longer. You didn’t want to. You saw HIM once and that once was not enough for you. The only way for you to end your pain was if you were released from this vile and corrupt existence, so that you could meet HIM and ask HIM for the answers to the questions that consumed you. This evil world was never worthy of your pureness and beauty. And like Jesus, you prophesized your own death. Your own release from the prison that your mortal flesh had become.

Yes John. I released you and I realize that you are grateful to me for that. I also realize that only you can appreciate that I have delivered myself over to your tormentors, and that you are smiling down on me in your state of grace.

That’s why I do not mind it so much really. In fact I feel honored to have become the prisoner that you were. And I can wait John, I can wait. For as many years as it takes until I too am freed, and we can finally be together in the garden of purity.

Freed to be with you, and with HIM. I have a feeling that I shall soon be favored by one of my close neighbors in here with that gift of freedom from this blood and bones prison. I pray for it every day. I turn my back willingly, hopefully, waiting for the knife to the neck or the blow to the head.

Until then, I shall be the one who suffers in your name. And I shall happily, cheerfully bear that loving burden.

In the meantime, please, please me and give all my loving to Mimi and George.

Your devoted friend in life and in death,

Mark David Chapman. 2003.