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After six decades 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. I'm leaving by choice, 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 distinctive animal species to the enchanting glow of fireflies between crop rows during warm nights and the brilliant fall colors, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your ability to spark creativity appears limitless, as evidenced through the inspiring individuals I've met throughout your territory. Numerous precious recollections revolve around flavors that will forever remind me of you – cinnamon spice, pumpkin pie, fruit preserves. However, United States, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.

Family Legacy and Shifting Identity

If I were composing a separation letter to the United States, that's how it would begin. I've qualified as an "accidental American" since birth because of my paternal lineage and ten generations preceding him, starting in 1636 including revolutionary and civil war soldiers, shared genetic material with a former president and generations of pioneers 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 grandfather served as a Marine in France in the global conflict; his widowed great-grandmother managed a farm with nine children; his great-uncle assisted rebuild San Francisco following the seismic disaster; and his grandfather campaigned as a state senator.

However, notwithstanding this classic U.S. background, I find myself no longer feeling connected to the nation. This is particularly true considering the confusing and alarming governmental climate that makes me doubt the meaning of national belonging. Experts have termed this "national belonging anxiety" – and I believe I experience it. Now I desire to create distance.

Practical Considerations and Financial Burden

I've only resided within America a brief period and haven't returned in nearly a decade. I've held Australian citizenship for almost forty years and no intention to reside, employment or education in the US again. And I'm confident I won't require military rescue – 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. The United States ranks among merely two countries globally – including Eritrea – that impose taxation according to nationality instead of location. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's documented 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 highly challenging and complex to undertake every new year, as the American fiscal cycle begins.

Compliance Concerns and Final Decision

I've been informed that eventually the U.S. government will enforce compliance and impose significant penalties against non-compliant citizens. These measures affect not only extremely wealthy figures like Boris Johnson but every U.S. citizen abroad need to meet requirements.

While taxation isn't the primary reason for my decision, the annual expense and stress associated with documentation becomes troubling and basic financial principles suggest it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities could result in travel including extra worry regarding possible border rejection for non-compliance. Alternatively, I could postpone resolution until my estate handles it posthumously. Neither alternative seems acceptable.

Possessing American travel documentation constitutes a privilege that countless immigrants earnestly attempt to obtain. Yet this advantage that feels uncomfortable for me, thus I'm implementing changes, although requiring significant payment to complete the process.

The threatening formal photograph featuring the former president, scowling toward visitors at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I recited the renunciation oath – provided the final motivation. I understand I'm selecting the correct path for my situation and during the official questioning regarding external pressure, I truthfully answer no.

Two weeks afterward I received my certificate of renunciation and my canceled passport to retain as mementos. My identity will supposedly be published within government records. I simply hope that future visa applications gets granted when I decide to visit again.