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After six decades together, United States, our partnership must conclude. Though fondness remains, 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 you possess countless wonderful qualities.

Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit

From your breathtaking national parks, towering redwood forests and distinctive animal species to the enchanting glow of fireflies amid cornfields on summer evenings and the brilliant fall colors, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your capacity to ignite innovation seems boundless, as demonstrated by the motivational people I've met throughout your territory. Many of my most cherished memories revolve around flavors that will forever remind me of you – aromatic cinnamon, pumpkin pie, 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 America, those would be the opening words. I've qualified as an "accidental American" since birth because of my paternal lineage and centuries of ancestors before 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 journeyed across the nation, 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 through economic hardship; his grandfather served as a Marine in France during the first world war; his widowed great-grandmother managed agricultural land with numerous offspring; his relative helped rebuild San Francisco following the seismic disaster; and his grandfather campaigned for political office.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I find myself no longer feeling connected to the nation. This feeling intensifies considering the confusing and concerning political atmosphere that makes me doubt what American identity represents. Experts have termed this "national belonging anxiety" – and I recognize the symptoms. Now I desire to create distance.

Practical Considerations and Financial Burden

I merely lived in the United States a brief period and haven't visited in nearly a decade. I've maintained Australian nationality for almost forty years and no intention to reside, employment or education within America subsequently. And I'm confident I'll never need emergency extraction – so there's no practical necessity to maintain U.S. citizenship.

Additionally, the requirement I face as a U.S. citizen to submit annual tax returns, despite neither living or employed there or eligible for services, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. The United States ranks among merely two countries globally – the other being Eritrea – that impose taxation based on citizenship rather than residence. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's documented in our passport backs.

Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates connecting both nations, intended to avoid double taxation, yet filing costs vary from substantial amounts yearly for straightforward declarations, and the process proves extremely demanding and convoluted to complete each January, when the U.S. tax period commences.

Regulatory Issues and Ultimate Choice

I've been informed that ultimately American officials will mandate conformity and impose significant penalties on delinquent individuals. This enforcement doesn't target extremely wealthy figures like Boris Johnson but every U.S. citizen abroad need to meet requirements.

While taxation isn't the primary reason for my decision, the annual expense and stress of filing returns proves distressing and basic financial principles suggest it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. 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 until my estate handles it posthumously. Neither alternative seems acceptable.

Possessing American travel documentation constitutes an opportunity many newcomers earnestly attempt to obtain. But it's a privilege that feels uncomfortable for me, so I'm taking action, although requiring significant payment to finalize the procedure.

The threatening formal photograph of Donald Trump, scowling toward visitors at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I performed the citizenship relinquishment – provided the final motivation. I recognize I'm choosing the proper direction for my situation and during the official questioning about potential coercion, I honestly respond negatively.

Two weeks afterward I obtained my official relinquishment document and my canceled passport to keep as souvenirs. My identity will supposedly be published on a federal registry. I merely wish that subsequent travel authorization will be approved when I decide to visit again.