It *is* kind of draining. But I feel most of us, deep down, come here because of a variant of the bystander effect. Or perhaps it's something a little more depressing.
The development of this game, and the game itself, can be seen as some kind of shattered promise ended terribly, a catastrophe even, but it's artificially kept alive due to... uncertainty. It's basically us as a not-so-young-anymore person going to the hospital to visit a long-stay patient in a coma who happens to be our significant other.
We go there often, but sometimes not as often as before. We know, deep down, they will never regain consciousness. But we still want to feel their presence and to remember how significant they were for us when they were still with us. So we go there, we bring fresh flowers... we talk about mundane things with them, not knowing if they can hear us... for they surely do not answer.
It always goes the same way: we drive to the hospital, we bring flowers to their room, we make jokes and try to maintain a veneer of optimism. Then it gets soul-crushing to see our significant other lying there, as they have been for... 11 years. So we take a break before giving that almost ritual last kiss on the forehead and go home.
As we sit in the hospital cafeteria, head filled with wonderful moments long past, we see there are other people in the same situation. Instead of being there alone, they slowly formed a group: they all share the same predicament. They all want someone to hear their voices, their stories which are so very relevant to their person. So we join up, make some acquaintances and we chat, we jest and we try not to be too miserable together. Sometimes we fight, but what keeps us talking and complaining and remembering how better it was when our loved ones were still fully with us... is the fact that we don't want to tell the doctors we want them to pull the plug on what's keeping our loved ones alive.