JOY

Why does every guide start with Joy? Seriously, we need to start something fresh here. The woman's ego would already reach the moon had it took physical form. There are plenty of other emotions out there. You know what, screw it. We'll delay the inevitable a bit and give some the attention to someone who deserves it more. Let's discuss the teary, stubby, kind-hearted Sadness.

SADNESS

You know if you're created a negative emotion it's basically reality giving you a good middle finger. Sadness had only been incarnated five minutes ago and she already felt the crushing weights of burden upon her rather stubby hands. She didn't have grace, optimism or even an idea as to what she was meant to be doing, characteristics which defined Joy all too well. Joy herself just kept her distance from Sadness like she was some form of contagious disease, which means you simply have to feel for her. True, she rarely did anything productive and was seriously distracting when lying face-first on the floor sobbing, but she was rarely respected or seen as any sort of benefit for Riley.

Totally cold, right? Don't worry, because unlike most of the other emotions, she got a relatively happy life towards the present. At first, she didn't mind the noticeable lack of attention – she knew all too well that nobody would understand why she was around when she herself wouldn't either – but things eventually became lonely and boring. You know if you're reading mind manuals, you're at the bottom of that social circle. She'd look at the other four, with their purpose and reason and…acceptance.

(Insert more sad stories here)

Anyway, I think you can grasp things weren't happy-doo-lally. Sadness never got much of a chance until the teenage years rolled around. There were hormones and dates and explicit education and plenty of other things to depress you as fast as possible. She wasn't stuck up about her job. She didn't consider it above everyone else's. But she couldn't really complain either. Plus, everyone just wanted to hug her.

Well that sounds silly, you say. She's just another emotion.

Yes, but she had eyes the size of dinner plates and cute glasses to match, making her instantly recognisable despite her wish to stay unnoticed. Disgust, for one, was quite literally green with envy.

"Oh, poor you!" she said with as much sugar as possible in her voice. An increasingly common occurrence, as puberty called for her much more than she'd originally imagined or hoped. But sugar wasn't always sweet. It caused gradual diabetes and decay. Both in food and from the mouth. So one day, she took a little stroll down Long-term and started touching all the golden memories, making them sad and upsetting. We still don't exactly know why. It's like touching an orange and it instantly turns mouldy in your hands. As far as she was concerned, anyone who went through the pain and suffering of simply navigating the maze of memories deserved a medal.

But she was about to throw herself into the memory dump. Yeah. She was that sick and tired of being sick and tired. It was a dull grey sky generated above her, so perfect weather for a potential suicide. And she'd checked her diary to make sure nothing else conflicted with her agenda besides moping and sniffling. She always wore slippers, so they threatened to come off with every fourth step as she shuffled to the edge and prepared to fall, but there were only a few centimetres to the edge when a mind worker seemingly appeared from nowhere and spoke in an amazingly calm manner.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he softly asked, but his eyes seemed to drip menace.

Oh, someone who actually cares. Sadness mistakenly thought. "I-" she began, but that was far enough, before he said, a bit louder this time, "You're going to waste space down there!"

She stopped mid-sentence. Oh well, it was worth a hope.

"If you want to kill yourself, go to the Subconscious. Or the food disposal chamber. Or…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it." Sadness was just more exasperated than upset. "I'll go somewhere else."

She trudged off, leaving the mind worker to wonder whether the advertising department ought to release new So you want to end your life: dos and don'ts pamphlets.

The food disposal chamber was situated below Riley's lower intestine and, predictably enough, in between her legs. The stench was oppressive. Picture a sloth taking a bath in ranch sauce and garlic mayonnaise. Or about ten sloths. You'd need a big clothes peg over your nose. The sort of clothes peg that could protect you from an elephant fart or some enchanted one that only exists in the depths of your Deviant art browsing. If she didn't want to die, she'd be upset of the stench would cling to her turtleneck. There were no security codes to get inside, as you'd either be really stupid or clad in protective gear to enter.

A deep breath and the airlocked door hissed open.

Churning raw food in mushy piles swam beneath her as she felt the reeking whiff practically punch her in the nose. There was even a convenient diving-board like platform for her to jump from. Again, the same thing seemed to happen. Sadness was tired of life because life seemed to be done with her. But apparently, the torment just wasn't over yet. There was a gurgling sound and everything was sucked out into a giant plug hole. Riley had decided this, of all times, was the best time to use the loo. If she jumped now, all she would achieve was breaking her pudgy legs. And things were painful enough. Her ice cold heart crushed into a frozen pretzel.

"WASTE EXTRACTION COMPLETE. NEXT EMPTY IN APPROXIMATELY SIX HOURS." Came the automated monologue from the chamber computer. Great.

A mind worker wrapped in radioactive-proof suit stormed over. "Do you mind?" he shouted, still slightly muffled by the screen across his eyes. "This is food-related gunk containment only. If I'm cleaning your remains from this thing, you'll be paying my wages beforehand."

She couldn't. Believe it. Just a few seconds too late.

"You want to die? Go to the Memory dump. Or the Subconscious. Or the – are you even listening to me?"

"Not really." Was all she replied.

"Are you going to listen?"

"Not really."

"Are going to say anything besides not really?"

Silence ensued. "Not really."

The subconscious was the last place Sadness really wanted to go. It was a long, torturous death if you wanted to imprison yourself there. And, with anyone, she wanted it to be quick. Maybe she could try and eat the large broccoli plants which seemed to grow everywhere and poison herself. The area was specially modified to prevent any natural disease or pain so the victims could experience the agony for much longer than usual. Just a typical weekend in the dark side of Riley's mind.

She didn't have to say much to get the guards to put her inside, because she could smell their inexperience – and I mean that literally. They hadn't showered in weeks and their eyelids were heavy from sleep deprivation. They wouldn't understand a breakout if it danced around in front of them wearing a long pink dress and mounted on a rainbow-spurting pony.

They then lazily told them what they'd do to her arms and legs, with the help of a hammer and nails, if she attempted to leave. Sadness couldn't exactly follow the logic, but the description was realistic enough to make her comply instantly. Whether the prisoner had any weapons on her, the guards couldn't say, but that would take hours of standard protocol, which could be spent sleeping.

"Just go in." was about all one of them decided to tell her afterwards.

Sadness spent nine months inside the Subconscious before she decided things just weren't going to work. She'd tried eating broccoli (It was actually quite tasty), she'd tried getting predators to eat her (which of whom were too busy thrashing and kicking in eternal punishment to really notice her) and even attempted to cut her flabby throat with a shattered memory. It just disintegrated upon impact. There was the occasional broadcast from Anger up in headquarters, delivering regular heated sermons about how they deserved it being the absolute £$%* they were, and how the *&$% world was so much £*&$ better without them.

"Do it again and I'll come down there too!" was a frequent line, which was actually something Sadness quite wanted to see: him versus a rampaging hoover would have spiced things up a bit, but…no. Things were not only terrible, but just boring as well. She was dying to breathe fresh air instead of gravel dust. She'd just about had enough with the whole suicide thing, and swiftly decided to leave through the back door.

Yes. There was a back door. The mind workers had decided that a fire escape would do well for the prisoners, and hadn't even alarmed it. Or maybe people would just be so wrapped up in living hell that they wouldn't notice the neon sign. No matter how you look at her, you can't deny Sadness had luck on her side, no matter how unwelcome it was. And that I, the author, have a nice easy way to extend the plot without getting bored.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah.

She wandered around Long term memory again, pondering another attempt to leap off the cliff into the dump, but the mind worker from before was watching her like a hawk. It was only at this point the other emotions actually realised she was gone. Another broadcast, this time echoing through Riley's entire body, came with an unusually upset-sounding Joy pleading for her return. This made Sadness feel wanted yet again for the first time in ages, but she knew this could and most likely would lead to more disappointment. Especially when Anger expressed his own opinion in such a way she wasn't exactly making any immediate plans to go back up there.

But enough was enough. She returned, but decided to come up with her own terms. Her first words when she reappeared back in headquarters were "I want to set some rules."

It was quite possible the only time Sadness sounded angry at anything. She wasn't shouting, but the iciness of her tone matched the shade of her skin.

The emotions looked at their own feet.

The first rule was simple: she could use the console when she felt necessary. Partly because she wanted the best for Riley, but also because she'd lost patience of being steamrollered by everyone else's insufferable egos.

And the second: she would be recognised as a person. Oh, how she wished she had a camera to snap the look on Disgust's face. Now she was happy. What was wrong with her today?

She glanced at each of them, silently daring them to disagree. Finally they obliged.

So that's Sadness covered. I think it was a good summary for the first chapter. But her oppressors have been left without a few pages dedicated to them. *Sigh*. Let's go to our first male emotion of the bunch.

Let's talk about Fear.