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After 60 years together, United States, I'm ending our relationship. While I still hold affection for you, the romantic connection has faded and the time has come to go our separate ways. This departure is voluntary, though it brings sadness, because you possess countless wonderful qualities.

Scenic Wonders and Innovative Energy

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 brilliant fall colors, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your capacity to ignite innovation appears limitless, as demonstrated by the motivational people I've met throughout your territory. Numerous precious recollections revolve around flavors that permanently connect me to you – cinnamon spice, pumpkin pie, fruit preserves. But, America, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.

Family Legacy and Shifting Identity

Were I drafting a farewell message to the United States, those would be the opening words. I've been what's termed an "unintentional U.S. citizen" 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 journeyed across the nation, from Massachusetts and New Jersey to Ohio, Pennsylvania, Illinois and Kansas.

I experience deep honor regarding my ancestral background and their contributions to America's narrative. My dad grew up through economic hardship; his ancestor fought with the military overseas in the global conflict; his single-parent ancestor operated agricultural land with numerous offspring; his relative helped reconstruct the city after the 1906 earthquake; 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 leaves me questioning what American identity represents. Experts have termed this "national belonging anxiety" – and I believe I experience it. Now I desire to create distance.

Logistical Factors and Economic Strain

I've only resided within America a brief period and haven't returned for eight years. I've maintained Australian nationality for most of my life and have no plans to live, work or study within America subsequently. And I'm confident I'll never need emergency extraction – so there's no practical necessity for me to retain American nationality.

Additionally, the requirement 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. America stands with merely two countries globally – including Eritrea – that impose taxation according to nationality instead of location. And financial compliance is mandatory – it's printed in our passport backs.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists between Australia and the U.S., intended to avoid double taxation, yet filing costs vary 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.

Regulatory Issues and Ultimate Choice

Authorities have indicated that ultimately the U.S. government will enforce compliance and impose significant penalties on delinquent individuals. This enforcement doesn't target high-profile individuals but all Americans overseas must fulfill obligations.

While taxation isn't the primary reason for my renunciation, the recurring cost and anxiety of filing returns proves distressing and basic financial principles suggest it represents poor investment. However, ignoring American fiscal duties could result in travel involves additional apprehension about potential denial at immigration for non-compliance. Alternatively, I could postpone resolution for inheritance processing after death. 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, so I'm taking action, despite the $2,350 cost to finalize the procedure.

The intimidating official portrait featuring the former president, scowling toward visitors at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I performed the citizenship relinquishment – supplied the ultimate impetus. I recognize I'm selecting the correct path for my circumstances and during the official questioning regarding external pressure, I truthfully answer no.

Two weeks afterward I obtained my official relinquishment document and my canceled passport to retain as mementos. My name will reportedly appear on a federal registry. I merely wish that subsequent travel authorization gets granted during potential return trips.