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After 60 years 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 there remains much to admire about you.

Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit

From your breathtaking national parks, towering redwood forests and unique wildlife to the enchanting glow of fireflies amid cornfields on summer evenings and the vibrant autumn foliage, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your ability to spark creativity appears limitless, as demonstrated by the motivational people I've encountered within your borders. Numerous precious recollections center on tastes that permanently connect me to you – cinnamon spice, seasonal squash dessert, grape jelly. But, America, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

Were I drafting a farewell message to the United States, that's how it would begin. I've qualified as an "unintentional U.S. citizen" from delivery due to my father and centuries of ancestors before him, commencing in the seventeenth century including revolutionary and civil war soldiers, 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 experience deep honor in my family's history and their contributions to America's narrative. My father experienced childhood during the Great Depression; his grandfather served as a Marine in France during the first world war; his single-parent ancestor operated a farm with nine children; his great-uncle assisted rebuild San Francisco after the 1906 earthquake; while another ancestor ran as a state senator.

However, notwithstanding this classic U.S. background, I discover myself increasingly disconnected with the country. This feeling intensifies considering the confusing and concerning political atmosphere that makes me doubt the meaning of national belonging. Experts have termed this "citizen insecurity" – and I recognize the symptoms. Currently I wish to establish separation.

Logistical Factors and Economic Strain

I merely lived within America a brief period and haven't visited in nearly a decade. I've held Australian citizenship for almost forty years and have no plans to reside, employment or education within America subsequently. Furthermore, I'm certain I won't require military rescue – so there's no practical necessity to maintain American nationality.

Additionally, the requirement I face as a U.S. citizen to file yearly financial documentation, despite neither living or employed there nor qualifying for benefits, becomes onerous and stressful. The United States ranks among only two nations worldwide – including Eritrea – that implement levies based on citizenship rather than residence. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's documented in our passport backs.

Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates between Australia and the U.S., designed to prevent duplicate payments, yet filing costs vary between A$1,200 and A$3,500 annually even for basic returns, and the process proves extremely demanding and convoluted to complete each January, as the American fiscal cycle begins.

Regulatory Issues and Ultimate Choice

I've been informed that eventually the U.S. government will enforce compliance and administer substantial fines against non-compliant citizens. This enforcement doesn't target high-profile individuals but all Americans overseas need to meet requirements.

Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my decision, the annual expense and stress 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 about potential denial at immigration for non-compliance. Alternatively, I could postpone resolution until my estate handles it posthumously. 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 of Donald Trump, scowling toward visitors at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I recited the renunciation oath – supplied the ultimate impetus. I understand I'm selecting the correct path for my situation and when the consular officer inquires regarding external pressure, 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 on a federal registry. I simply hope that subsequent travel authorization gets granted when I decide to visit again.