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After six decades together, America, I'm ending our relationship. Though fondness remains, the passion has diminished and I'm making the difficult decision to separate. This departure is voluntary, though it brings sadness, because you possess countless wonderful qualities.

Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit

From your breathtaking national parks, towering redwood forests and unique wildlife to the magical illumination of lightning bugs amid cornfields on summer evenings and the vibrant autumn foliage, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your ability to spark creativity seems boundless, as demonstrated by the motivational people I've encountered within your borders. Many of my most cherished memories revolve around flavors that will forever remind me of you – cinnamon spice, seasonal squash dessert, fruit preserves. But, America, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

Were I drafting a farewell message to the United States, those would be the opening words. I've been what's termed an "accidental American" from delivery due to my father and centuries of ancestors before him, commencing in the seventeenth century and featuring revolutionary and civil war soldiers, DNA connections to past leadership and generations of pioneers who traversed the country, beginning in northeastern states toward central and western regions.

I feel tremendous pride in my family's history and their contributions to America's narrative. My father experienced childhood through economic hardship; his grandfather served as a Marine in France in the global conflict; his widowed great-grandmother managed a farm with nine children; his relative helped rebuild San Francisco following the seismic disaster; 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 considering the confusing and alarming governmental climate that leaves me questioning what American identity represents. Experts have termed this "national belonging anxiety" – and I recognize the symptoms. 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 almost forty years 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 American nationality.

Furthermore, the obligation I face as a U.S. citizen to submit annual tax returns, despite neither living or employed there nor qualifying for benefits, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. The United States ranks among only two nations worldwide – the other being Eritrea – that impose taxation according to nationality instead of location. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's documented within travel documents.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists between Australia and the U.S., designed to prevent duplicate payments, yet filing costs vary from substantial amounts yearly for straightforward declarations, and the process proves extremely demanding and convoluted to complete each January, as the American fiscal cycle begins.

Compliance Concerns and Final Decision

Authorities have indicated that ultimately the U.S. government will enforce compliance and impose significant penalties on delinquent individuals. These measures affect not only extremely wealthy figures like Boris Johnson but all Americans overseas need to meet requirements.

While taxation isn't the primary reason for my decision, the recurring cost and anxiety associated with documentation becomes troubling and fundamental economics indicates it represents poor investment. However, ignoring American fiscal duties would mean that visiting involves additional apprehension regarding possible border rejection for non-compliance. Or, I might defer settlement for inheritance processing after death. Both options appear unsatisfactory.

Holding a U.S. passport represents a privilege that countless immigrants earnestly attempt to obtain. But it's a privilege that creates discomfort personally, thus I'm implementing changes, despite the $2,350 cost to complete the process.

The threatening formal photograph featuring the former president, glowering at attendees within the diplomatic facility – where I performed the citizenship relinquishment – supplied the ultimate impetus. I recognize I'm choosing the proper direction for my circumstances and during the official questioning about potential coercion, I truthfully answer no.

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 merely wish that future visa applications gets granted when I decide to visit again.