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After 60 years together, America, I'm ending our relationship. Though fondness remains, the romantic connection has faded and the time has come to go our separate ways. This departure is voluntary, despite the sorrow it brings, because you possess countless wonderful qualities.

Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit

Beginning with your magnificent protected lands, towering redwood forests and distinctive animal species 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 seems boundless, as evidenced through the inspiring individuals I've encountered within your borders. Many of my most cherished memories center on tastes that will forever remind me of you – cinnamon spice, pumpkin pie, fruit preserves. But, America, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

Were I drafting a farewell message to the United States, that's how it would begin. I've been what's termed an "unintentional U.S. citizen" since birth due to my father and centuries of ancestors before him, commencing in the seventeenth century and featuring military participants in foundational conflicts, DNA connections to past leadership plus multiple eras of settlers who journeyed across the nation, beginning in northeastern states toward central and western regions.

I feel tremendous pride in my family's history 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 single-parent ancestor operated a farm with nine children; his relative helped 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 is particularly true given the perplexing and concerning political atmosphere that makes me doubt the meaning of national belonging. This phenomenon has been labeled "national belonging anxiety" – and I believe I experience it. Now I desire to create distance.

Logistical Factors and Economic Strain

I've only resided in the United States for two years and haven't returned for eight years. I've held Australian citizenship for most of my life and no intention to live, work or study in the US again. Furthermore, I'm certain I won't require military rescue – thus no functional requirement for me to retain American nationality.

Furthermore, the obligation I face as a U.S. citizen to file yearly financial documentation, despite neither living or employed there nor qualifying for benefits, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. America stands with only two nations worldwide – including Eritrea – that implement levies according to nationality instead of location. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's printed within travel documents.

Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates 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 procedure represents extremely demanding and convoluted to undertake every new year, when the U.S. tax period commences.

Compliance Concerns and Final Decision

I've been informed that eventually American officials will mandate conformity and impose significant penalties on delinquent individuals. This enforcement doesn't target extremely wealthy figures like Boris Johnson but every U.S. citizen abroad must fulfill obligations.

Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my renunciation, the recurring cost and anxiety of filing returns proves distressing and fundamental economics indicates it represents poor investment. However, ignoring American fiscal duties would mean that visiting involves additional apprehension about potential denial at immigration for non-compliance. Alternatively, I could postpone resolution until my estate handles it posthumously. Neither alternative seems acceptable.

Holding a U.S. passport represents a privilege that countless immigrants earnestly attempt to obtain. But it's a privilege that feels uncomfortable for me, 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 understand I'm choosing the proper direction for my situation and during the official questioning regarding external pressure, I truthfully answer no.

A fortnight later I received my certificate of renunciation and my voided travel papers to keep as souvenirs. My identity will supposedly be published on a federal registry. I merely wish that future visa applications gets granted when I decide to visit again.