One of the strangest and most troubling things about Mark is not just the chaos he leaves in his wake—it’s the unwavering consistency of his delusions. His posts, his actions, and even his absence all follow the same script. And that script always ends in blame without accountability, projection without reflection, and performance without action.

At first glance, his posts look like they are meant for someone else: cautionary tales, broad “messages” about toxic mothers, dishonest exes, or fathers being pushed away. But to those who have lived through his behavior, these are not lessons—they are confessions. They are admissions of guilt dressed up as sermons, each one revealing far more about himself than about the people he claims to expose.

And then, sometimes, he writes the truth without even realizing it. His latest post reads:

“Toxic people never tell the full story. They always tell the part where they are the victim and everyone else looks bad.”

Exactly. That’s what Mark has been doing for years. He has told the story only from the angle where he plays the victim, never once acknowledging the court orders he refuses to follow, the evaluations he has not completed, the medical harm he has caused, or the silence he has kept in the communication tool that was designed for him to stay connected to his children. He tells just enough of the story to make himself look good, while erasing the parts that matter most.

And here’s the question that echoes louder every day:
How does someone, fully aware they are being watched, recorded, and documented, continue to speak as though no one knows the truth?

Mark has been told, over and over again, that every claim he makes is scrutinized. When he says something, we don’t shrug it off—we verify, we fact-check, we match it against the record. And without fail, the truth undercuts his narrative.

Yet he continues.

That leaves two possibilities:

1. He has no intention of ever following through with the mental health and domestic violence evaluations required by the court. His defiance is the point. By refusing to take those steps, he gets to keep spinning his narrative without ever being confronted by professional, clinical truth.
2. Or, he is delusional enough to think that the evaluators—when he finally is forced to show up—will somehow ignore years of posts, inactions, and documented patterns. If that’s the case, then his hubris is astonishing. Because every word he has published, every refusal to act, every excuse and deflection, will not vanish when he steps into that office. It will follow him. It will be submitted. It will be read.

The irony is devastating. Mark seems to believe that consistency equals credibility. But in reality, his consistency is the very evidence that will dismantle him. For years, he has repeated the same refrains—cheating wife, alienating mother, corrupt courts—as though repetition will make them true. Instead, it has only etched a deeper record of his obsession, his projection, and his refusal to take responsibility.

That’s the paradox of his delusion: he believes he’s winning the narrative battle, while every post becomes another brick in the wall closing in on him.

And the saddest part? That wall isn’t just keeping him out of court victories. It’s keeping him out of his children’s lives.

Because in the end, Mark’s greatest consistency is not love, presence, or accountability—it’s absence. And no reel, no rant, no sermon can disguise the simple truth: he has built the very prison that now keeps him from his children.