I'm at the same stage as you are but I'm 37. Nothing changes. You live in the hope that something will happen, but it won't. There's no future for us all. There's absolutely nothing you can do. You can call it fate, but we're all some kind of Meursaults in The Stranger here. The dark wind of your void future will level anything to happen. At 37 time just disappears.
"Throughout the whole absurd life I'd lived, a dark wind had been rising toward me from somewhere deep in my future, across years that were still to come, and as it passed, this wind leveled whatever was offered to me at the time, in years no more real than the ones I was living. What did other people's deaths or a mother's love matter to me; what did his God or the lives people choose or the fate they think they elect matter to me when we're all elected by the same fate . . ."
--The Stranger, by Albert Camus.
