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After 60 years together, United States, I'm ending our relationship. While I still hold affection for you, the romantic connection has faded and the time has come to go our separate ways. This departure is voluntary, though it brings sadness, because there remains much to admire about you.

Scenic Wonders and Innovative Energy

Beginning with your magnificent protected lands, soaring ancient trees and unique wildlife to the magical illumination of lightning bugs amid cornfields on summer evenings and the vibrant autumn foliage, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your ability to spark creativity appears limitless, as evidenced through the inspiring individuals I've met throughout your territory. Many of my most cherished memories revolve around flavors that permanently connect me to you – aromatic cinnamon, seasonal squash dessert, grape jelly. However, United States, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

If I were composing a separation letter to the United States, those would be the opening words. I've been what's termed an "unintentional U.S. citizen" since birth due to my father and centuries of ancestors before him, starting in 1636 including military participants in foundational conflicts, DNA connections to past leadership and generations of pioneers who traversed the country, from Massachusetts and New Jersey toward central and western regions.

I experience deep honor regarding my ancestral background and their role in the national story. My father experienced childhood during the Great Depression; his grandfather served as a Marine in France during the first world war; his widowed great-grandmother managed agricultural land with numerous offspring; his relative helped reconstruct the city after the 1906 earthquake; and his grandfather campaigned for political office.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I discover myself increasingly disconnected with the country. This is particularly true given the perplexing and concerning political atmosphere that makes me doubt what American identity represents. This phenomenon has been labeled "citizen insecurity" – and I believe I experience it. Now I desire to create distance.

Practical Considerations and Financial Burden

I merely lived within America 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'll never need emergency extraction – thus no functional requirement to maintain American nationality.

Additionally, the requirement as an American national to submit annual tax returns, despite neither living or employed there nor qualifying for benefits, becomes onerous and stressful. The United States ranks among merely two countries globally – the other being Eritrea – that impose taxation based on citizenship rather than residence. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's printed in our passport backs.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists between Australia and the U.S., designed to prevent duplicate payments, but preparation expenses range from substantial amounts yearly even for basic returns, and the procedure represents highly challenging and complex to complete each January, as the American fiscal cycle begins.

Regulatory Issues and Ultimate Choice

I've been informed that eventually American officials will mandate conformity and impose significant penalties against non-compliant citizens. These measures affect not only extremely wealthy figures like Boris Johnson but all Americans overseas need to meet requirements.

While taxation isn't the primary reason for my renunciation, the recurring cost and anxiety of filing returns proves distressing and basic financial principles suggest it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities would mean that visiting including extra worry regarding possible border rejection for non-compliance. Alternatively, I could postpone resolution for inheritance processing after death. Neither alternative seems acceptable.

Holding a U.S. passport represents a privilege that countless immigrants desperately seek to acquire. Yet this advantage that creates discomfort personally, thus I'm implementing changes, despite the $2,350 cost to finalize the procedure.

The threatening formal photograph featuring the former president, scowling toward visitors within the diplomatic facility – where I recited the renunciation oath – provided the final motivation. I recognize I'm choosing the proper direction for my circumstances and when the consular officer inquires about potential coercion, I truthfully answer no.

A fortnight later I obtained my official relinquishment document and my voided travel papers to retain as mementos. My name will reportedly appear on a federal registry. I simply hope that subsequent travel authorization gets granted during potential return trips.