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After 60 years together, America, 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, though it brings sadness, because there remains much to admire about you.

Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit

From your breathtaking national parks, soaring ancient trees and distinctive animal species to the enchanting glow of fireflies amid cornfields on summer evenings and the vibrant autumn foliage, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your capacity to ignite innovation appears limitless, as demonstrated by the motivational people I've encountered within your borders. Many of my most cherished memories center on tastes that will forever remind me of you – cinnamon spice, pumpkin pie, grape jelly. But, America, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.

Family Legacy and Shifting Identity

If I were composing a separation letter to the United States, that's how it would begin. I've qualified as an "unintentional U.S. citizen" from delivery because of my paternal lineage 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, from Massachusetts and New Jersey to Ohio, Pennsylvania, Illinois and Kansas.

I feel tremendous pride in my family's history and their role in the national story. My dad grew up through economic hardship; his ancestor fought as a Marine in France in the global conflict; his widowed great-grandmother managed a farm with nine children; his relative helped 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 to the nation. This feeling intensifies considering the confusing and alarming governmental climate that makes me doubt the meaning of national belonging. This phenomenon has been labeled "national belonging anxiety" – and I believe I experience it. Currently I wish to establish separation.

Logistical Factors and Economic Strain

I merely lived in the United States for two years and haven't returned in nearly a decade. I've maintained Australian nationality for almost forty years and have no plans to live, work or study within America subsequently. Furthermore, I'm certain I'll never need emergency extraction – thus no functional requirement for me to retain U.S. citizenship.

Additionally, the requirement I face as a U.S. citizen to file yearly financial documentation, despite neither living nor working there or eligible for services, becomes onerous and stressful. America stands with only two nations worldwide – the other being Eritrea – that impose taxation according to nationality instead of location. And financial compliance is mandatory – it's printed in our passport backs.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists connecting both nations, designed to prevent duplicate payments, but preparation expenses range from substantial amounts yearly for straightforward declarations, and the procedure represents highly challenging and complex to undertake every new year, when the U.S. tax period commences.

Regulatory Issues and Ultimate Choice

I've been informed that ultimately American officials will mandate conformity and administer substantial fines on delinquent individuals. These measures affect not only extremely wealthy figures like Boris Johnson but every U.S. citizen abroad must fulfill obligations.

Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my decision, the recurring cost and anxiety associated with documentation becomes troubling and fundamental economics indicates it represents poor investment. However, ignoring American fiscal duties could result in travel including extra worry about potential denial at immigration 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 feels uncomfortable for me, so I'm taking action, despite the $2,350 cost to complete the process.

The intimidating official portrait featuring the former president, scowling toward visitors at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I recited the renunciation oath – supplied the ultimate impetus. 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 name will reportedly appear on a federal registry. I simply hope that subsequent travel authorization gets granted when I decide to visit again.