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After 60 years together, America, I'm ending our relationship. 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, despite the sorrow it brings, because there remains much to admire about you.

Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit

From your breathtaking national parks, soaring ancient trees and unique wildlife 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 seems boundless, as demonstrated by the inspiring individuals I've encountered within your borders. Numerous precious recollections center on tastes that will forever remind me of you – aromatic cinnamon, seasonal squash dessert, fruit preserves. But, America, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

If I were composing a separation letter to America, those would be the opening words. I've been what's termed an "accidental American" since birth due to my father and centuries of ancestors before him, commencing in the seventeenth century including military participants in foundational conflicts, shared genetic material with a former president and generations of pioneers who traversed the country, beginning in northeastern states 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 ancestor fought as a Marine in France during the first world war; his single-parent ancestor operated agricultural land with numerous offspring; his great-uncle assisted rebuild San Francisco following the seismic disaster; while another ancestor ran for political office.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I discover myself increasingly disconnected to the nation. This feeling intensifies considering the confusing and concerning political atmosphere that leaves me questioning 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.

Practical Considerations and Financial Burden

I've only resided in the United States a brief period and haven't visited in nearly a decade. I've held Australian citizenship for almost forty years and no intention to reside, employment or education in the US again. And I'm confident I'll never need emergency extraction – thus no functional requirement to maintain American nationality.

Furthermore, the obligation I face as a U.S. citizen to file yearly financial documentation, although not residing or employed there or eligible for services, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. The United States ranks among merely two countries globally – including Eritrea – that implement levies based on citizenship rather than residence. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's printed in our passport backs.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists connecting both nations, designed to prevent duplicate payments, yet filing costs vary between A$1,200 and A$3,500 annually 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 against non-compliant citizens. 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 decision, the annual expense and stress associated with documentation becomes troubling and basic financial principles suggest it represents poor investment. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities could result in travel involves additional apprehension regarding possible border rejection for non-compliance. Alternatively, I could postpone resolution for inheritance processing after death. Both options appear unsatisfactory.

Possessing American travel documentation constitutes a privilege that countless immigrants desperately seek to acquire. Yet this advantage that creates discomfort personally, thus I'm implementing changes, despite the $2,350 cost to finalize the procedure.

The threatening formal photograph featuring the former president, glowering at attendees within the diplomatic facility – where I recited the renunciation oath – supplied the ultimate impetus. I understand I'm choosing the proper direction for my situation and when the consular officer inquires regarding external pressure, I truthfully answer no.

A fortnight later I received my certificate of renunciation and my canceled passport to retain as mementos. My identity will supposedly be published within government records. I merely wish that future visa applications gets granted during potential return trips.