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After 60 years together, United States, our partnership must conclude. 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, though it brings sadness, because you possess countless wonderful qualities.

Scenic Wonders and Innovative Energy

Beginning with your magnificent protected lands, soaring ancient trees and unique wildlife to the enchanting glow of fireflies amid cornfields on summer evenings and the brilliant fall colors, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your ability to spark creativity appears limitless, as demonstrated by the inspiring individuals I've encountered within your borders. Numerous precious recollections revolve around flavors that will forever remind me of you – aromatic cinnamon, seasonal squash dessert, grape jelly. However, United States, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.

Family Legacy and Shifting Identity

If I were composing a separation letter to the United States, that's how it would begin. I've been what's termed an "unintentional U.S. citizen" from delivery because of my paternal lineage and ten generations preceding him, starting in 1636 including revolutionary and civil war soldiers, DNA connections to past leadership 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 contributions to America's narrative. My dad grew up during the Great Depression; his grandfather served with the military overseas during the first world war; his single-parent ancestor operated a farm with nine children; his great-uncle assisted rebuild San Francisco after the 1906 earthquake; while another ancestor ran for political office.

However, notwithstanding this classic U.S. background, I discover myself increasingly disconnected to the nation. This is particularly true considering the confusing and alarming governmental climate that leaves me questioning what American identity represents. This phenomenon has been labeled "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 for two years and haven't returned in nearly a decade. I've maintained Australian nationality for most of my life and no intention to live, work or study within America subsequently. And I'm confident I'll never need emergency extraction – so there's no practical necessity to maintain U.S. citizenship.

Furthermore, the obligation I face as a U.S. citizen to submit annual tax returns, despite neither living nor working there nor qualifying for benefits, becomes onerous and stressful. The United States ranks among merely two countries globally – including Eritrea – that impose taxation based on citizenship rather than residence. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's printed within travel documents.

Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates between Australia and the U.S., designed to prevent duplicate payments, but preparation expenses range between A$1,200 and A$3,500 annually even for basic returns, and the process proves extremely demanding and convoluted to complete each January, when the U.S. tax period commences.

Regulatory Issues and Ultimate Choice

Authorities have indicated that eventually American officials will mandate conformity and impose significant penalties against non-compliant citizens. This enforcement doesn't target extremely wealthy figures like Boris Johnson but all Americans overseas need to meet requirements.

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 constitutes inefficient resource allocation. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities would mean that visiting including extra worry regarding possible border rejection due to irregular status. Alternatively, I could postpone resolution until my estate handles it posthumously. Both options appear unsatisfactory.

Holding a U.S. passport represents an opportunity many newcomers earnestly attempt to obtain. But it's a privilege that feels uncomfortable for me, so I'm taking action, despite the $2,350 cost to complete the process.

The threatening formal photograph featuring the former president, scowling toward visitors at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I performed the citizenship relinquishment – provided the final motivation. I recognize I'm choosing the proper direction for my situation and during the official questioning about potential coercion, I honestly respond negatively.

Two weeks afterward I obtained my official relinquishment document and my voided travel papers to keep as souvenirs. My name will reportedly appear within government records. I merely wish that future visa applications gets granted when I decide to visit again.