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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 I'm making the difficult decision to separate. I'm leaving by choice, despite the sorrow it brings, because you possess countless wonderful qualities.

Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit

Beginning with your magnificent protected lands, soaring ancient trees and distinctive animal species to the enchanting glow of fireflies amid cornfields on summer evenings and the vibrant autumn foliage, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your capacity to ignite innovation appears limitless, as evidenced through the inspiring individuals I've encountered within your borders. Many of my most cherished memories revolve around flavors that permanently connect me to you – aromatic cinnamon, pumpkin pie, grape jelly. But, America, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.

Family Legacy and Shifting Identity

If I were composing a separation letter to America, that's how it would begin. I've qualified as an "accidental American" from delivery due to my father and centuries of ancestors before him, starting in 1636 including revolutionary and civil war soldiers, 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 in my family's history and their role in the national story. My dad grew up during the Great Depression; his grandfather served as a Marine in France in the global conflict; his single-parent ancestor operated agricultural land with numerous offspring; his great-uncle assisted reconstruct the city after the 1906 earthquake; and his grandfather campaigned for political office.

However, notwithstanding this classic U.S. background, I find myself no longer feeling connected with the country. This feeling intensifies given the perplexing and concerning political atmosphere that leaves me questioning what American identity represents. This phenomenon has been labeled "national belonging anxiety" – and I recognize the symptoms. Now I desire to create distance.

Logistical Factors and Economic Strain

I merely lived within America for two years and haven't returned in nearly a decade. I've maintained Australian nationality for almost forty years and have no plans to live, work or study within America subsequently. And I'm confident I'll never need emergency extraction – thus no functional requirement for me to retain U.S. citizenship.

Furthermore, the obligation I face as a U.S. citizen to submit annual tax returns, although not residing nor working there nor qualifying for benefits, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. America stands with only two nations worldwide – including Eritrea – that impose taxation based on citizenship rather than residence. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's printed within travel documents.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists between Australia and the U.S., intended to avoid double taxation, but preparation expenses range from substantial amounts yearly even for basic returns, and the process proves highly challenging and complex to undertake every new year, as the American fiscal cycle begins.

Regulatory Issues and Ultimate Choice

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 extremely wealthy figures like Boris Johnson but all Americans overseas must fulfill obligations.

Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my decision, the annual expense and stress associated with documentation becomes troubling and basic financial principles suggest it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. However, ignoring American fiscal duties would mean that visiting involves additional apprehension about potential denial at immigration due to irregular status. Alternatively, I could postpone resolution until my estate handles it posthumously. Neither alternative seems acceptable.

Possessing American travel documentation constitutes an opportunity many newcomers earnestly attempt to obtain. But it's a privilege that feels uncomfortable for me, so I'm taking action, although requiring significant payment to complete the process.

The threatening formal photograph of Donald Trump, scowling toward visitors within the diplomatic facility – where I recited the renunciation oath – supplied the ultimate impetus. I understand I'm selecting the correct path for my situation and when the consular officer inquires regarding external pressure, I truthfully answer no.

A fortnight later I received my certificate of renunciation and my canceled passport to keep as souvenirs. My identity will supposedly be published on a federal registry. I merely wish that subsequent travel authorization will be approved during potential return trips.