_Miley_

Miley Cyrus; New Year's Resolution;
Get over Nick Jonas.

Yeah, right.

I sighed, looking back up at the dark night sky, not a single star in sight. Exactly the way I felt: dark and gloomy.

But, you know, I really shouldn't. Not when he's out there, having the time of his life with her in the first row, singing along to my favourite songs… songs that had been meant for me to sing along to.

No.

Instead, I should've gone out with my "boyfriend" to celebrate his birthday, not lied that I was suffering with "chromic-coughing/ puking disease. Don't ask me what that is, I don't know.

But here I am, in my pajamas and bunny slippers, holding onto this itchy, purple shirt that I "hate". I only do this when I miss him. But do I still miss him? How pathetic does that sound? It's been three freakin' years already!

He is not coming back to me, never. But I think the problem here is that even though I say it, I don't believe it… not yet, not ever. I somehow keep hoping that he would turn up at my doorstep clutching a bouquet of white lilies (they're my favourite, and he knows that), declaring his undying love for me.

But so far… tough luck.

Ok, I decide, I'm going to sit down and write down all the pros and cons for both boys. Pros for Liam and Cons for Nick.

Liam; Likes to call me, not text.

Nick; Likes to text. (Which I never liked, cause, well, cause if he texted me, I wouldn't be able to hear his beautiful voice—forget that.)

Liam; Doesn't cancel our dates cause he's too busy for me.

Nick; Go figure.

Liam; Doesn't mind PDA, in fact, loves it (maybe a little too much).

Nick; Go figure.

Liam; Is Australian, therefore, has a cute accent.

Nick; Go figure.

Liam; Is older and more mature.

Nick; Just two months older than me, but still is Mr. Know-It-All.

Nick; Has soft, yet wild curls that I love to run my fingers through.

Nick; Has those chocolate brown eyes that make me melt.

Nick; His kisses make me feel faint… in a very, very good way.

Nick; The way his body fits into mine like a jigsaw puzzle. So perfect.

Nick; Can make me go from mad to sad, sad to happy, happy to sad again in just one second.

Nick; Can calm me down at any given moment by just singing to me. (Which no one else has managed to accomplish.)

Nick; Can cook (Which even I can't).

Nick; Is my first love.

Nick; I love him.

I sigh, drawing a line over the page. When had my hate list turned into a love one? I was right, I am pathetic.

I am this silly pathetic little girl, so in love that I can barely even write down the things I hate about my ex without turning it into 'The Million Most Favourite Things of Mine about My Ex'.

I need to get over him, I just do! With a new kind of determination, I jump to my feet, almost slipping on my bunny slippers, might I add. I race into the kitchen, still holding onto the stupid shirt.

I look around; my eyes scan the room for a match box. Aha! There it is. I storm over to it and pick it up. Then, I place the shirt on the kitchen counter and light one of the matches up.

I pick up the shirt and bring the burning match closer to it. If you haven't figured it out by now, my first attempt to get over Nick is to burn this shirt of his that I currently cannot live without. But I'll show him; I will!

I clamp my eyes shut, not being able to watch, just leaving a little of my left eyes peeking to make sure I do nothing other than burn the shirt.

The moment the match touches the edge of the shirt, my eyes go wide. What the hell am I doing?! I panic, dropping the match and running to the sink, turning the faucet open and shoving the burnt material under it until I was sure the fire was out.

I retrieve the shirt to examine the damage. It's burnt just a wee bit… that's enough for today.

Suddenly, a loud ringing covers my ears. I look up frantically only to realize it was the fire alarm. I turned around and my eyeballs almost jump out of their sockets.

Yikes!

The carpet is burning heavily! I must have accidently dropped the lit match on it. Oh no!

'Miley, what's going on in there?' I hear my mom yelling before she dashes into the room with my dad by her side. She gasps as she surveys the burning carpet as I give them my best 'I-don't-know'what's-going-on-either' innocent look.

Half an hour later, we had finally managed to put the fire out. Thank God it hadn't spread beyond the carpet.

I have got be more careful with my 'Get over Nick Jonas' plans hereafter!

A/N: That must have been pretty silly. :p
It started out as a normal one-shot, but then I decided I would try a different kind of writing style. I read this book 'Shopaholic and Baby' by Sophie Kinsella; I just finished it. And it's hilarious! I think that's what inspired me.
Anyways, I'm not so sure my attempt worked out. Did it? This is supposed to be a three-shot, so tell me if it was alright, so I can continue.

+ I am working on the next chapter of Remember December (for whoever reads it) but that will be posted after this is over. It was a refreshing change, writing this. It was kind of new to me. (: