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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. I'm leaving by choice, despite the sorrow it brings, because there remains much to admire about you.

Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit

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 vibrant autumn foliage, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your capacity to ignite innovation seems boundless, as evidenced through the inspiring individuals I've met throughout your territory. Many of my most cherished memories center on tastes that will forever remind me of you – aromatic cinnamon, seasonal squash dessert, grape jelly. However, United States, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

Were I drafting a farewell message to America, that's how it would begin. I've qualified as an "accidental American" since birth because of my paternal lineage and ten generations preceding him, starting in 1636 including military participants in foundational conflicts, shared genetic material with a former president 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 role in the national story. My father experienced childhood through economic hardship; his grandfather served with the military overseas in the global conflict; his widowed great-grandmother managed a farm with nine children; his great-uncle assisted reconstruct the city after the 1906 earthquake; and his grandfather campaigned for political office.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I discover myself increasingly disconnected to the nation. This is particularly true considering the confusing and concerning political atmosphere that makes me doubt the meaning of national belonging. This phenomenon has been labeled "national belonging anxiety" – and I recognize the symptoms. Now I desire to create distance.

Logistical Factors and Economic Strain

I merely lived in the United States a brief period and haven't returned 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. And I'm confident I'll never need emergency extraction – thus no functional requirement to maintain U.S. citizenship.

Additionally, the requirement as an American national to submit annual tax returns, although not residing 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 printed within travel documents.

Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates between Australia and the U.S., designed to prevent duplicate payments, but preparation expenses range from substantial amounts yearly even for basic returns, and the process proves highly challenging and complex to complete each January, when the U.S. tax period commences.

Regulatory Issues and Ultimate Choice

Authorities have indicated that eventually American officials will mandate conformity and administer substantial fines on delinquent individuals. These measures affect not only high-profile individuals but all Americans overseas need to meet requirements.

While taxation isn't the primary reason for my decision, the recurring cost and anxiety of filing returns proves distressing and basic financial principles suggest it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. However, ignoring American fiscal duties would mean that visiting involves additional apprehension regarding possible border rejection for non-compliance. Or, I might defer settlement until my estate handles it posthumously. Neither alternative seems acceptable.

Holding a U.S. passport represents a privilege that countless immigrants desperately seek to acquire. Yet this advantage that creates discomfort personally, so I'm taking action, 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 – provided the final motivation. I understand I'm choosing the proper direction 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 within government records. I merely wish that subsequent travel authorization will be approved during potential return trips.