I too wonder if there is some depression going on with you OP. I well remember those early days, it was hideous. Son would feed every hour at times. It's just their little tummies.
The one thing that kept me going was that feeding was the only time I felt the 'rush of love' that everyone talks about. The rest of the time, he was a chore I had to deal with. My depression wasn't recognised, least of all by me.
I kept going, but I ditched the special clothing and bras. It would have been about the 3 month mark when I did that. I even began wearing underwired bras again (my boobs were HUGE - LL cup), against all advice. I was past caring at this point, I was sick of useless nursing bras that did nothing to support me.
I had a lot of milk, so it was easy for me to express and I would freeze my milk so I had a stock. When we went out, I didn't have to faff about with clothes, he would take a bottle of breast milk. Would that be an option for you?
For me, as others have said, the 3 month mark was where it began easing up - the 'boob sensations' and nipple pain went away, and the leakage subsided. I began to feel more human and less feeding machine. As he got bigger, he fed faster, and by 5 months he was sleeping for 6 hours between night feeds.
Breastfed felt much easier for me than bottle-feeding. It was enough of a pain sterilising and preparing the daily bottle I used when we went out, I would have got well fed-up of having to make up bottles all the time. I appreciate that's just me though.
I promise you, it does get better - whatever you decide. You will find the joy. I hadn't expected my life to change in the way it did, I hadn't expected the complete and utter tedium and slog that having a baby was for me.
But just as no-one had warned me about that, no-one told me it was temporary. It didn't occur to me that life would change as my baby grew. I wish I had understood that it was ok to let other things slide in the early days, because there would be time to pick it all back up later on. Because it does get better, and parenting becomes more than the endless round of feeding and changing.