Swallowing stones.
Piercing your throat as you force them down
Feeling them rot in your stomach as the bile builds.  
Fish hooks through your larynx, stabbing holes in your voice as it comes out as a whisper
Even though you felt like you were yelling
Even though you felt like you were fighting to get those words out
A whisper of a complaint against the tension in your chest masked as insecurities and doubt
This is what my anxiety feels like