This is a melancholy little tidbit that I wrote - these were my actual feelings. But I decided it might be a nice story from Hermione's point of view, we're rather similar.
Suddenly, she seized her wand with both fists, clenching until her knuckles turned white. She stared at it with pure loathing. Hatred, but also a deep sadness, burning in her eyes, she made a motion to snap it in half. Her hands shook, wanting desperately to break it in two. Trembling, and scared of herself, she dropped it to the floor.