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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. This departure is voluntary, though it brings sadness, because you possess countless wonderful qualities.

Scenic Wonders and Innovative Energy

Beginning with your magnificent protected lands, 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 capacity to ignite innovation appears limitless, as demonstrated by the inspiring individuals I've met throughout your territory. Many of my most cherished memories revolve around flavors that will forever remind me of you – cinnamon spice, pumpkin pie, grape jelly. However, United States, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.

Family Legacy and Shifting Identity

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" since birth due to my father and ten generations preceding him, starting in 1636 including revolutionary and civil war soldiers, DNA connections to past leadership plus multiple eras of settlers who traversed the country, beginning in northeastern states toward central and western regions.

I experience deep honor in my family's history and their role in the national story. My father experienced childhood during the Great Depression; his ancestor fought as a Marine in France during the first world war; his single-parent ancestor operated agricultural land with numerous offspring; his relative helped reconstruct the city following the seismic disaster; 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 considering the confusing and concerning political atmosphere that makes me doubt what American identity represents. This phenomenon has been labeled "citizen insecurity" – and I believe I experience it. Currently I wish to establish separation.

Practical Considerations and Financial Burden

I merely lived in the United States a brief period and haven't visited for eight years. I've maintained Australian nationality for almost forty years and have no plans to live, work or study in the US again. And I'm confident 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 submit annual tax returns, although not residing nor working there nor qualifying for benefits, becomes onerous and stressful. The United States ranks among only two nations worldwide – including Eritrea – that implement levies according to nationality instead of location. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's documented within travel documents.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists 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 procedure represents extremely demanding and convoluted to complete each January, when the U.S. tax period commences.

Compliance Concerns and Final Decision

I've been informed that ultimately the U.S. government will enforce compliance and impose significant penalties on delinquent individuals. This enforcement doesn't target extremely wealthy figures like Boris Johnson but all Americans overseas need to meet requirements.

Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my renunciation, the recurring cost and anxiety associated with documentation becomes troubling and basic financial principles suggest it represents poor investment. However, ignoring American fiscal duties could result in travel including extra worry 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 an opportunity many newcomers desperately seek to acquire. But it's a privilege that feels uncomfortable for me, thus I'm implementing changes, despite the $2,350 cost to finalize the procedure.

The intimidating official portrait featuring the former president, scowling toward visitors at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I recited the renunciation oath – provided the final motivation. I recognize I'm selecting the correct path for my circumstances and when the consular officer inquires regarding external pressure, I honestly respond negatively.

Two weeks afterward I obtained my official relinquishment document and my voided travel papers 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.