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After six decades 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. I'm leaving by choice, though it brings sadness, because you possess countless wonderful qualities.

Scenic Wonders and Innovative Energy

From your breathtaking national parks, soaring ancient trees and distinctive animal species to the magical illumination of lightning bugs between crop rows during warm nights and the vibrant autumn foliage, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your ability to spark creativity appears limitless, as evidenced through the motivational people I've encountered within your borders. Many of my most cherished memories center on tastes that permanently connect me to you – cinnamon spice, pumpkin pie, fruit preserves. However, United States, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

Were I drafting a farewell message to the United States, those would be the opening words. I've qualified as an "accidental American" from delivery due to my father and ten generations preceding him, starting in 1636 including military participants in foundational conflicts, shared genetic material with a former president and generations of pioneers who journeyed across the nation, from Massachusetts and New Jersey toward central and western regions.

I feel tremendous pride regarding my ancestral background and their contributions to America's narrative. My dad grew up through economic hardship; his grandfather served with the military overseas 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 as a state senator.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I find myself no longer feeling connected with the country. This feeling intensifies given the perplexing and concerning political atmosphere that makes me doubt what American identity represents. 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 merely lived in the United States a brief period and haven't returned for eight years. I've maintained Australian nationality for most of my life and no intention to live, work or study in the US again. Furthermore, I'm certain I'll never need emergency extraction – so there's no practical necessity to maintain U.S. citizenship.

Additionally, the requirement I face as a U.S. citizen to submit annual tax returns, although not residing or employed there nor qualifying for benefits, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. The United States ranks among only two nations worldwide – including Eritrea – that impose taxation according to nationality instead of location. And financial compliance is mandatory – it's printed within travel documents.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists connecting both nations, designed to prevent duplicate payments, yet filing costs vary 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 administer substantial fines on delinquent individuals. This enforcement doesn't target high-profile individuals but all Americans overseas must fulfill obligations.

Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my renunciation, 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 could result in travel involves additional apprehension about potential denial at immigration due to irregular status. Or, I might defer settlement until my estate handles it posthumously. Both options appear unsatisfactory.

Holding a U.S. passport represents an opportunity many newcomers desperately seek to acquire. Yet this advantage that feels uncomfortable for me, thus I'm implementing changes, 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 circumstances and during the official questioning regarding external pressure, I honestly respond negatively.

A fortnight later I received my certificate of renunciation and my canceled passport to keep as souvenirs. My name will reportedly appear within government records. I simply hope that subsequent travel authorization will be approved during potential return trips.