The Perfectionist's Compromise

The Perfectionist and the Artist

Once upon a time there was an artist in your mind.
Once upon a time there also lived a pesky roomate, named perfectionism (he must've been brother's with procrastination, or at the very least cousins!)
The artist was happy and maybe a little messy, but no matter his strange ways he got whatever he started done and in the end, he felt free.
His roommate on the other hand, seemed to make life much more difficult.
"You need me," he'd shout, whenever the artist tried to kick him out, "without me your words don't rhyme and you'll waste your time creating something that, quite frankly, sucks. "
The artist thought for a moment, one finger on his chin.
"You suffocate me," he started, "because I am an artist I love all that I can, I am one with source and one with light, love and success, there for I know I can love you! For just like me, you're a mess!"
"Ugh," perfectionism shuttered in distress, "what are you even saying?"
"I'm saying," sighed the artist, exhausted from his roomate's presence, "what if we made a deal."
"A deal?"
"A deal, the artist continued, "you let me do what I do, in peace. And once I have finished, THEN may you speak. I cannot finish what I do when you interrupt me every second of the way. But what if," the artist breathed, "I wrote what I wrote and i spoke what I spoke, I drew what I drew and I'd do what I do and the whole time I do it I believe I am what I am, an artist!"
"But," perfectionism cut in, clearly aggravated.
"Hear me out,  when I am done with my work, let me take a deep breath. Smile. And then you may speak all you wish and I will listen accordingly, wouldn't that be satisfying?"
"A little," grumbled perfectionism, "but what if your work sucks?" he spat.
"Oh," laughed the artist, "to you, and to many others, it will! At least, at first. But if we can work in harmony, we might find some kind of balance between the raw, heart and soul and between the genius of the brain and intuition."
Perfectionism thought about it for a moment, unsure of the idea.
"But won't that be such a sacrifice? Listening to me tear your work apart as you've proudly 'finished' it?" he asked, his voice softening.
"Of course," smiled the artist, "it will also be quite the sacrifice for you to shut up while I work!"
Perfectionism smirked at this comment.
"True," he pretended to wince, "true."
"We need each other," the artist now understood, "I won't throw you out, as long as you don't shut me out. Do we have a deal?"
"Alright," smiled perfectionism, "as long as you'll eventually, fully listen to me, ill stay quiet while you first create something new."
The two shook on it and this ridiculous, but heart felt short story was created.