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After 60 years together, United States, I'm ending our relationship. While I still hold affection for you, the passion has diminished and I'm making the difficult decision to separate. This departure is voluntary, despite the sorrow it brings, because there remains much to admire about you.

Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit

From your breathtaking national parks, soaring ancient trees and unique wildlife to the magical illumination of lightning bugs between crop rows during warm nights and the brilliant fall colors, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your capacity to ignite innovation appears limitless, as demonstrated by the motivational people I've encountered within your borders. Many of my most cherished memories center on tastes that will forever remind me of you – aromatic cinnamon, seasonal squash dessert, fruit preserves. But, America, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

Were I drafting a farewell message to America, those would be the opening words. I've qualified as an "unintentional U.S. citizen" since birth due to my father and ten generations preceding him, commencing in the seventeenth century including military participants in foundational conflicts, shared genetic material with a former president plus multiple eras of settlers who traversed the country, from Massachusetts and New Jersey to Ohio, Pennsylvania, Illinois and Kansas.

I feel tremendous pride regarding my ancestral background and their role in the national story. My father experienced childhood during the Great Depression; his ancestor fought as a Marine in France during the first world war; his widowed great-grandmother managed a farm with nine children; his great-uncle assisted rebuild San Francisco following the seismic disaster; while another ancestor ran as a state senator.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I find myself no longer feeling connected to the nation. This feeling intensifies given the perplexing and alarming governmental climate that leaves me questioning the meaning of national belonging. This phenomenon has been labeled "national belonging anxiety" – and I recognize the symptoms. Currently I wish to establish separation.

Practical Considerations and Financial Burden

I merely lived in the United States a brief period and haven't visited for eight years. I've held Australian citizenship for most of my life and have no plans to reside, employment or education in the US again. Furthermore, I'm certain I won't require military rescue – so there's no practical necessity to maintain U.S. citizenship.

Additionally, the requirement I face as a U.S. citizen to submit annual tax returns, although not residing or employed there nor qualifying for benefits, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. America stands with merely two countries globally – the other being Eritrea – that implement levies based on citizenship rather than residence. And financial compliance is mandatory – it's printed in our passport backs.

Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates connecting both nations, intended to avoid double taxation, but preparation expenses range between A$1,200 and A$3,500 annually for straightforward declarations, and the process proves extremely demanding and convoluted to complete each January, as the American fiscal cycle begins.

Compliance Concerns and Final Decision

I've been informed that ultimately the U.S. government will enforce compliance and impose significant penalties on delinquent individuals. This enforcement doesn't target high-profile individuals but every U.S. citizen abroad need to meet requirements.

Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my decision, the annual expense and stress of filing returns proves distressing and fundamental economics indicates it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities would mean that visiting involves additional apprehension about potential denial at immigration due to irregular status. Alternatively, I could postpone resolution for inheritance processing after death. Both options appear unsatisfactory.

Holding a U.S. passport represents an opportunity many newcomers desperately seek to acquire. Yet this advantage that feels uncomfortable for me, thus I'm implementing changes, although requiring significant payment to finalize the procedure.

The threatening formal photograph featuring the former president, glowering at attendees at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I recited the renunciation oath – provided the final motivation. I recognize I'm selecting the correct path for my circumstances and during the official questioning regarding external pressure, I honestly respond negatively.

A fortnight later I received my certificate of renunciation and my voided travel papers to retain as mementos. My identity will supposedly be published on a federal registry. I merely wish that subsequent travel authorization gets granted during potential return trips.