Empty Tanks and Work

I didn't think that life would be like this.

Go to work.
Come home from work.
Talk about things that happened at work.
Go to bed early so I can get up for work.
Go home early so I can go to bed for work.
Wake up, think about work.
Why.

I hate it. I didn't realize my whole life would one day revolve around working. I figured I would be able to get by with a part-time job so that I could focus on my passions, and even make money with them. But the more I work, and the more I move up in life, the less time I can dedicate to anything I enjoy. Not only do I not enjoy things (most things) anymore, but I don't even have time to think about them anymore. All I do is wait around to go to work.

Fucking really? That's it? That's life?

I grew up trying to find a passion. I sought out cameras, and computers, and music, and lyrics, and books and words, and nothing makes me that happy. Nothing holds my attention long enough for me to make a life out of it. I don't understand how someone can become an expert in a field. I just don't care enough.

My life is a big empty tank with a hole in the bottom. I'm always filling it temporarily with things, but eventually, it all drains out and I'm left with mornings like this one, where I know I'm a big waste of resources, and yet, I continue.

What the fuck do I do, imaginary followers?