I didn’t find any good enough hobby in this 35 years of life that didn’t fade after some time. At moment I’m very empty inside, I spend half day sleeping and other half working, everything looks expansive to do, I give up on everything, I’m keeping myself alive because I’m just scared of the pain and I can’t imagine stop existing.
Still everything is now ashes, dust in the wind, nothing. All this fun hobbies are now only a meanless memory, I didn’t have nothing back, all the fun you say is become, for me, hate. Hate to have wasted my time laughing like a fool behind videogames, books, even sports, telling myself that was okay, creating a big lie that hobby was something important, just to see it ending without any result. So that’s the point, limited time sure it’s everything, but meaning is also everything in this life.