There is a machine.

When you're wound up, pushed into a corner, preparing for battle
it conjures a lush, serene forest and lulls you into peace

When you're overexcited and overreacting
it brings a soothing sea breeze that carries the scent of the ocean and calm swish of waves

When you're in a bad way,
it envelopes you in a comforting warmth like a thick flannel blanket and a cup of tea

There is a machine. It is a melancholytron.