Old Mother Hubbard.

"Old Mother Hubbard,
Went to the cupboard,
To give the poor dog a bone.
When she came there,
The cupboard was bare,
And so the poor dog had none."

When you've been single for what seems like eternity, it actually becomes boring.
Once you get past your lapse of crazy freedom, you realise that suddenly, you miss having someone to just call when you want to talk and know they'll listen. Or go for strolls, hand in hand, not caring about what others think of you. Or lie in someone's arms, while watching a scary movie, knowing that even though the monsters aren't real, there's no way they could jump out of the screen and attack you. Not with that person so close. Even if he breathes heavily. Even if you have extreme sunburn on the side you're using to lean on him making it slightly uncomfortable. Even if there's a cat on the seat above you - vibrating randomly for no apparent reason - ruining any "moment" the two of you might have been sharing (if any).
None of that matters when you feel right. When everything feels right.

So why, later, does everything fall apart? Something that had felt so right before, now has increased doubts and confusion pouring out of every socket.
The person you want to be with seems uninterested and only talks in riddles you just don't seem to be able to understand. 
He brings up the what-ifs that you're not supposed to think about at the start of relationships. Or the fresh start of relationships in some cases.
What if we don't see eachother enough?
What if it's too awkward?
What if I over-analyze everything?
What if I assume every tiny thing you say or write is about me?
What if I just don't like you?

"Give the poor dog a bone."

I have no clue what's going on at the moment in my entire love life situation.
I am given no hints. No possible clues. No secret sources or hidden messages.
I just wish someone would just throw me a bone - and help me out a bit. Before I starve. Like Old Mother Hubbard and her pathetic dog.