At sixteen you're meant to feel as if you are invincible, you are meant to be carefree, you are meant to be lost somewhere between childhood and adulthood. At sixteen you are supposed to get yourself into trouble without actually getting into trouble or without getting caught but after the year from hell that I had I was far from invincible; I was far from feeling carefree. I was tired and done with life. I wanted it over. Sick of smiling to the masses and pretending everything was all howdy-doody, I thought constantly about death.

I worked a no-end dish washing job, nothing wrong with that of course especially when you consider just how many sixteen-year-olds actually have a job and some money coming in? At the time I didn't look at it that way, instead it was more a double chore for me, a double negative rather than something positive.

Closing up every night around half past two in the morning for starters wasn't great. Adding to the obvious fact that I didn't drive, no way of having access to a vehicle even if I could, and the time of night being far too late to be able to benefit from public transport, no available ride home either, I would have to walk the near to four miles from work to home somewhere between five and seven times a week.

I home schooled myself as best I could ... don't get me started on home life, I'm not going there right now, the less I think of it the better. Anyhow, about midway on the journey home from my oh so special job, there was an overpass to a motor way. I would stop on that bridge every night just to take a short break and one thing often led to another to the point that on one night in particular I could not help but contemplate jumping.

I often considered jumping off from that bridge though on this one night in particular, a night which initially appeared no different to any other, I stopped on the bridge and sighed. I had no longer felt anything as if I had nothing left inside yet my body seemed to want to cry. I always thought that weird, not feeling any emotion and being compelled to cry anyway.

Standing on the bridge, I noted the few cars that came at me and passed below me. Wouldn't be long until a moment would come when the road below me would be empty, I didn't want to jump and fall on top of anyone's car. I may have wanted to die but I didn't want to take anyone with me. It was to be my death on my terms. As one car passed its driver honked, I waved. I'm not quite sure why I did that, maybe it was only to say goodbye to at least someone.

All sense of time became lost. It seemed like hours were passing while I remained on the bridge, although it was probably only minutes for the whole moment to pass. All was silent, no sounds, no birds, no cars, nothing, there wasn't even a breeze. My moment of having a quiet road beneath had come.

I climbed up and onto the outer bridge railing and sat still. My heart pounded fast in my chest as I took in a deep breath or two. I cried some more. I guess in this moment I really didn't want to die but I could see no other way of ending the pain, the odd dullness within that I felt.

For a bit, I kinda had this moment where my head split into two ... factions, yeah let's call it that. Each side argued the pros versus the cons of jumping. The pros convinced me it was the best thing, the cons said I would be missed, the pros told me no one would miss me; the cons said I was too cowardly to jump. And so, this inner argument ensued for what seemed a good long while. How long I was really sitting there ... I honestly couldn't tell you.

Finally, came the moment and strangely it was perfect. So quiet, so peaceful. The arguments had stopped and inside my head went calm ... quiet. Looking to the ground so far below me I knew it was time. I shuffled forward a little and spoke out loud my 'goodbye' to the world.

From behind me a voice spoke calmly and simply ... 'HEY'.

To explain a little further, this bridge I had been on, it is an overpass, a road essentially, something traffic and pedestrians could pass across. Below it is a dual carriageway and if it could be looked at from above it would make a crisscross, a crossroads with a smaller road going over a much larger one. So, with that said, my head snapped around in response to the 'hey' I had heard, and I had to catch myself so I wouldn't fall at this point.

The quiet moment I was having myself had been interrupted just as an action was about to take place. There in the middle of the bridge off a little to the left was a dark blue eighteen-wheeler semi-truck with headlights on high, in front of those headlights stood a huge burly shape of a man with a warm smile.

'Hey bub, c'mere' he said, his voice velvety smooth but gruff at the same time.

How the hell did that truck get there? I had not heard its arrival, surely such a thing would not have been possible.

I suddenly felt like as if I'd drank a hell of a lot of whiskey, I had done that once before and didn't feel too good after. I remember how it made my insides feel and what it done to my stomach; I also remember how dizzy it had made me feel. Right now, I felt warm, and I oddly felt safe, and a little dizzy too. As this fellow waved me over, as if to signal me to come to him, I felt compelled to do so. I swung my legs back over the railing and went over towards him.

The man pointed, in a manner suggesting that I should go to the passenger door of his truck, so I did just that, I don't know why I did, but I just did. I climbed up and in and he was there in the driver's seat waiting for me to fully get in. My head questioned how he got there so fast, how such a big man was able to move so quickly, getting from his position on the bridge up and back behind the wheel. How odd that really was. How odd all this was.

He said nothing more but handed me a tuna fish sandwich and a cup of tea poured from his flask. After taking a bite or two from the sandwich and a sip or two of the tea, the man spoke softly.

'What happened to you, bub? What is going on in your life?' he asked me this so calmly it was as if I had always known him while also having no idea as to who he is.

A flood of emotions suddenly rocked me that I could feel it hit my stomach. For reasons I cannot explain, I told him my story. I was compelled to tell him, and he listened. The year of hell I had after losing my best friend to a drunk driver and being attacked one night, on the way home from a remembrance get together in my friend's name no less.

I was a big enough guy back then, usually more than able to defend myself, though there had been a few of them and just the one of me, so not much of a resistance had been put up. It had taken me some time to recover physically, and I guess I hadn't quite got there emotionally by this particular night.

I told my new friend, if I could call him that, these things. Again, I don't know why I did this, it just felt as if I could. I continued to speak, telling the truck driver that I couldn't live with myself anymore and that I didn't think I deserved to be alive. I had wept for my lost innocence and my loneliness. I wept until my body had no more tears.

The man had said nothing while I told my story, he was silent as I cried and when I had stopped, he'd driven us to the road leading close to cul-de-sac right by where I live. Odd, I knew we were moving, but I do not remember the exact moment the truck had begun to move. My house only a matter of a couple hundred meters away. He looked at me, not judging me, not believing I might be crazy.

'Time to go home bub' he said softly, and I felt the sudden need to climb out of the truck, so I did climb out and I thanked him for the sandwich and tea. Before I shut the door, the man would speak again, 'everything will be just fine bub, you'll see, go home now and be safe.'

I shut the door and turned around to walk that short distance home. I didn't look back but kept going until I reached my house. Tucked safely in bed, it was only then it felt like I 'woke up' and I did wake up. Morning had come. Had I been asleep? Had I been dreaming? I couldn't remember going to bed.

Everything from the bridge and after seemed like a real memory. I had done that walk so many times before and stopped so many times there before. That night I had only walked half the journey. Everything which occurred after arriving to the bridge both did and did not feel real at the same time.

Did I imagine my own moment of near madness? Was I so in grief that I dreamed it all up? Or did an angel come to my aid and bring me safely home. I'd rather believe the latter, and the driver's his last words I was sure would stay with me for some time 'everything will be just fine bub, you'll see ...' and they did.

There will be tough times in life still to come, I'm sure, some will even be dark. The truck driver's words may just always stay with me, and they might just keep me safe.

Did I have an angel take care of me that night? Do I have an angel to keep me safe from the coming dark days?

In your time of darkness, if it should come ... find your truck driver ... find someone who will keep you safe. Such people and moments do exist. Be ... safe.