I hate the fading of an interest, too, it's a bad, restless feeling. Perhaps my mind is particularly susceptible to the perils of black and white thinking due to having major depressive disorder since the onset of puberty, but I can almost feel the aforementioned monster rising to the foreground when a special interest dies.
Not to sound like a suicidal poet, but it's as though all of my interests are the newly bought paint lacquering a very rotten wooden fence always on the verge of collapse.
_________________
On hiatus thanks to someone in real life breaching my privacy here, without my permission! May be back one day. +tips hat+