You find out what the next show will be and you’re so excited that you can’t help but tell your non-theatre friends, who don’t seem to care too much.

You walk out of your audition thinking that it’s the best one you’ve ever had.

The cast list finally goes up, and you find out that you didn’t get the part you had wanted more than anything else.

But then you read who got that part, and you can’t help but wonder what the director was thinking.

You get the rehearsal schedule and realize that this show alone is going to be your life for the next three months.

At the first rehearsal, all of the theatre newbies are asking questions that make you want to rip your hair out.

There’s always that cast member who will ask to run a scene again when you’d rather be in your bed watching Netflix.

And of course, there will always be those kids who won’t stop singing their favorite show tunes at rehearsal, which do not have any relevance whatsoever.

Your parents will continuously check in to make sure that you’re keeping up with your classwork with the huge time commitment the show brings and you won't have the courage to tell them how behind you are.

Your friends may try to convince you that clubs or sports teams are more fun than theatre.

One day you walk into rehearsal after everyone else has started, and there are death glares coming your way from every direction.

The lead is performing his most powerful scene and you can’t do anything but stare at him in awe.

You’re trying to pay attention to the director’s notes, but you can’t stop thinking about how long ago your last meal was.

Tech week rolls around, and after six hours of rehearsing scene after scene, the director finally dismisses you.

You spend the entire week before the show attempting to convince all of the people you know to see it, but most of them say they “don’t like theatre.”

You’ve gotten less than the minimal amount of sleep needed to function, and your body has no idea how to function.

It's opening night, the stage manager calls places and everyone, including yourself, is freaking out.

Opening night is over, and you couldn’t be happier with how the first performance went.

You get to your first cast party and you just go a little too wild.

But by the time the audience greets you for bows on closing night, you realize that your hard work has paid off, in both the production you have created, and the new family you have found.