I used to be really passionate about drawing as a child. I filled dozens and dozens of notebooks with drawings. My father wasn't really impressed about it, but it was such a cheap hobby and it managed to keep me distracted, so he gladly "supported" that interest of mine.
It helped me to gain some friends in middle school, so my interest grew a little more, but I think it caused my notes to drop so I stopped getting support, and even more so then that I was not a child anymore.
My family wanted me to grow up so quick, to be responsible, dependable, courteous, self-sufficient... and they kind of accomplished it, but I think it broke me. I had to learn how to do everything by myself without ever complaining, asking for help only when utterly necessary, hiding my emotions and whatever could be seen as weakness. I learned to be there and work for others but never for myself.
I'm now about to start a PhD program, and I feel so empty, even my family isn't really impressed, they just like the status that comes with it, but they don't understand what I do or even care for that matter. I do like what I'm studying, but I feel so love-starved, out of touch with people my age, like there's no place I really fit in.
I genuinely think that I deserve the reality I live in, that I don't deserve sympathy of any kind, and that I shouldn't even be typing this; I'm just looking for attention without having ever contributed something before, and I know I won't even reciprocate because I didn't learn how to be kind and warm with the people around me. So there, I should be dead because I might be useful, but I am not wanted.
And about my hobby... I stopped drawing for years, but I like to sketch some things every once in a while... I even bought a digital drawing tablet, but I don't feel that passion I used to have, it feels mechanical. I don't really care anymore about anything.