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After 60 years together, America, our partnership must conclude. While I still hold affection for you, the romantic connection has faded and I'm making the difficult decision to separate. I'm leaving by choice, despite the sorrow it brings, because you possess countless wonderful qualities.

Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit

Beginning with your magnificent protected lands, towering redwood forests and unique wildlife to the enchanting glow of fireflies amid cornfields on summer evenings and the brilliant fall colors, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your ability to spark creativity appears limitless, as evidenced through the inspiring individuals 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 America, that's how it would begin. I've been what's termed an "accidental American" from delivery due to my father and ten generations preceding him, commencing in the seventeenth century including military participants in foundational conflicts, DNA connections to past leadership and generations of pioneers who journeyed across the nation, beginning in northeastern states to Ohio, Pennsylvania, Illinois and Kansas.

I feel tremendous pride regarding my ancestral background and their role in the national story. My dad grew up through economic hardship; his ancestor fought with the military overseas during the first world war; his single-parent ancestor operated agricultural land with numerous offspring; his relative helped reconstruct the city after the 1906 earthquake; while another ancestor ran as a state senator.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I find myself no longer feeling connected to the nation. This is particularly true given the perplexing and alarming governmental climate that makes me doubt the meaning of national belonging. Experts have termed this "national belonging anxiety" – and I believe I experience it. Now I desire to create distance.

Logistical Factors and Economic Strain

I merely lived in the United States for two years and haven't visited in nearly a decade. I've maintained Australian nationality for almost forty years and no intention to live, work or study in the US again. And I'm confident I won't require military rescue – thus no functional requirement 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. America stands with merely two countries globally – the other being Eritrea – that implement levies based on citizenship rather than residence. And financial compliance is mandatory – it's printed in our passport backs.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists connecting both nations, intended to avoid double taxation, 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 complete each January, when the U.S. tax period commences.

Compliance Concerns and Final Decision

I've been informed that eventually American officials will mandate conformity and administer substantial fines against non-compliant citizens. These measures affect not only high-profile individuals but every U.S. citizen abroad need to meet requirements.

While taxation isn't the primary reason for my decision, the recurring cost and anxiety associated with documentation becomes troubling and fundamental economics indicates it represents poor investment. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities would mean that visiting involves additional apprehension regarding possible border rejection due to irregular status. Alternatively, I could postpone resolution for inheritance processing after death. Neither alternative seems acceptable.

Possessing American travel documentation constitutes a privilege that countless immigrants desperately seek to acquire. Yet this advantage that creates discomfort personally, so I'm taking action, although requiring significant payment to finalize the procedure.

The intimidating official portrait featuring the former president, glowering at attendees at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I recited the renunciation oath – provided the final motivation. I recognize I'm choosing the proper direction for my circumstances 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 keep as souvenirs. My name will reportedly appear on a federal registry. I merely wish that future visa applications gets granted when I decide to visit again.