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After 60 years together, America, I'm ending our relationship. Though fondness remains, the passion has diminished and the time has come to go our separate ways. This departure is voluntary, though it brings sadness, because there remains much to admire about you.

Scenic Wonders and Innovative Energy

From your breathtaking national parks, soaring ancient trees and distinctive animal species to the enchanting glow of fireflies amid cornfields on summer evenings 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 will forever remind me of you – cinnamon spice, seasonal squash dessert, fruit preserves. 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, those would be the opening words. I've qualified as an "unintentional U.S. citizen" since birth due to my father and ten generations preceding him, commencing in the seventeenth century and featuring revolutionary and civil war soldiers, shared genetic material with a former president and generations of pioneers 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 through economic hardship; his ancestor fought as a Marine in France in the global conflict; his single-parent ancestor operated a farm with nine children; 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 is particularly true given the perplexing and alarming governmental climate that leaves me questioning the meaning of national belonging. Experts have termed this "citizen insecurity" – and I believe I experience it. Now I desire to create distance.

Practical Considerations and Financial Burden

I merely lived within America a brief period and haven't visited in nearly a decade. I've held Australian citizenship for most of my life and no intention to reside, employment or education in the US again. And I'm confident I'll never need emergency extraction – so there's no practical necessity for me to retain U.S. citizenship.

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 – including Eritrea – that implement levies based on citizenship rather than residence. 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 between A$1,200 and A$3,500 annually for straightforward declarations, and the procedure represents highly challenging and complex to undertake every new year, when the U.S. tax period commences.

Compliance Concerns and Final Decision

I've been informed that eventually the U.S. government will enforce compliance and administer substantial fines on delinquent individuals. This enforcement doesn't target high-profile individuals but every U.S. citizen abroad must fulfill obligations.

Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my renunciation, the recurring cost and anxiety of filing returns proves distressing and basic financial principles suggest 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 a privilege that countless immigrants desperately seek to acquire. But it's a privilege that creates discomfort personally, so I'm taking action, despite the $2,350 cost to finalize the procedure.

The intimidating official portrait featuring the former president, glowering at attendees within the diplomatic facility – where I performed the citizenship relinquishment – provided the final motivation. I understand I'm selecting the correct path for my situation and during the official questioning about potential coercion, I honestly respond negatively.

Two weeks afterward I received my certificate of renunciation and my canceled passport to keep as souvenirs. My identity will supposedly be published within government records. I merely wish that future visa applications gets granted when I decide to visit again.