Every so often, Mark Anthony Stephens releases another sermon from his digital pulpit — a mix of broken grammar, grandiosity, and holy self-victimization.

His latest post about “loyalty” is a prime example of what experts in the field now recognize as Markish, a dialect where syntax goes to die and self-awareness gets exorcised.

He writes passionately about “never cheating” and condemns “flirting” as betrayal — the irony being that his own record shows a consistent pattern of emotional infidelity, manipulation, and boundary violations that go far beyond flirting. When the bar for betrayal is that low, you can accuse everyone else of sin while quietly ignoring your own trail of emotional wreckage.

This is projection at its finest. Mark’s posts aren’t reflections; they’re reversals. He defines morality not by what’s true, but by what deflects attention from himself. Each “I’m loyal” post is a mirror turned outward, accusing others of the very betrayals he’s committed in secret.

And then there’s that sentence — or sentensish — that deserves its own translation guide:

“I chose sick people, fixers, and family trauma.”

Grammatically, it’s a fragment. Semantically, it’s an accidental confession. Psychologically, it’s DARVO poetry. He didn’t “choose” those things — he cultivated them. He attracts chaos like a moth to its own flame, then claims to be shocked by the burn.

Let’s be honest: this isn’t self-reflection. It’s self-preservation wrapped in Christian hashtags.
He’s not saying, “I need to heal.” He’s saying, “Look what they did to me.”

The sad comedy is that the documents tell a very different story — from eyewitness accounts of public chaos and manipulationto medical professionals detailing how his delusions harmed his own son. Each record reads like a field report from the front lines of his disorder.

So when Mark preaches about loyalty and betrayal, remember:
The man who speaks of “sick people” is the one who made them sick.
The “fixers” were just people trying to survive him.
And the “family trauma” wasn’t found — it was manufactured.

Welcome to the study of Markish — where the grammar is broken, the logic is inverted, and every post ends the same way: with him as the victim of his own reflection.

The Loyalty Myth

Here’s the part that makes his constant “cheated on” narrative truly absurd: in more than a decade together, Melissa has never once shown even a hint of infidelity, disloyalty, or inappropriate behavior. Not one. The idea that she — or anyone else — betrayed him is fiction written to soothe his fragile ego.

Mark’s obsession with claiming he’s “always been cheated on” is psychological projection 101. It’s a story he needs to tell to make sense of why people leave him — because the truth, that his own behavior drives everyone away, is too devastating to admit. So he rebrands abandonment as betrayal, and neglect as loyalty.

He invents infidelity because it’s easier than facing accountability. He crafts a morality play where he’s the wounded saint and everyone else the adulterer. But those who have lived near him know the truth: Mark was never betrayed — he was avoided for survival.

His “cheated on” narrative is the final act in a long-running drama of blame.
It’s not about love lost. It’s about control lost.
And that, to Mark, is the ultimate sin.