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After six decades together, United States, our partnership must conclude. Though fondness remains, the passion has diminished 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.

Scenic Wonders and Innovative Energy

From your breathtaking national parks, soaring ancient trees and distinctive animal species to the magical illumination of lightning bugs amid cornfields on summer evenings and the vibrant autumn foliage, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your capacity to ignite innovation seems boundless, as demonstrated by 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 – cinnamon spice, pumpkin pie, fruit preserves. However, United States, I simply don't comprehend you anymore.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

If I were composing a separation letter to the United States, those would be the opening words. I've qualified as an "accidental American" since birth due to my father and centuries of ancestors before him, starting in 1636 and featuring revolutionary and civil war soldiers, shared genetic material with a former president plus multiple eras of settlers who traversed the country, from Massachusetts and New Jersey to Ohio, Pennsylvania, Illinois and Kansas.

I experience deep honor in my family's history and their contributions to America's narrative. My father experienced childhood through economic hardship; his ancestor fought as a Marine in France in the global conflict; his single-parent ancestor operated agricultural land with numerous offspring; his great-uncle assisted reconstruct the city following the seismic disaster; and his grandfather campaigned for political office.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I find myself no longer feeling connected with the country. This is particularly true considering the confusing and alarming governmental climate that leaves me questioning what American identity represents. 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 returned for eight years. I've held Australian citizenship for almost forty years and have no plans to live, work or study in the US again. Furthermore, I'm certain I won't require military rescue – so there's no practical necessity to maintain U.S. citizenship.

Furthermore, the obligation as an American national to file yearly financial documentation, despite neither living nor working there or eligible for services, becomes onerous and stressful. The United States ranks among only two nations worldwide – the other being Eritrea – that implement levies based on citizenship rather than residence. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's printed 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 undertake every new year, 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 administer substantial fines against non-compliant citizens. These measures affect not only high-profile individuals but every U.S. citizen abroad must fulfill obligations.

Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my renunciation, the annual expense and stress of filing returns proves distressing and fundamental economics indicates it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. However, ignoring American fiscal duties would mean that visiting including extra worry regarding possible border rejection due to irregular status. Or, I might defer settlement for inheritance processing after death. Both options appear unsatisfactory.

Holding a U.S. passport represents a privilege that countless immigrants desperately seek to acquire. But it's a privilege that creates discomfort personally, so I'm taking action, despite the $2,350 cost to complete the process.

The intimidating official portrait featuring the former president, glowering at attendees within the diplomatic facility – where I performed the citizenship relinquishment – supplied the ultimate impetus. I understand I'm choosing the proper direction for my situation and during the official questioning about potential coercion, I truthfully answer no.

Two weeks afterward I received my certificate of renunciation and my canceled passport to retain as mementos. My identity will supposedly be published within government records. I merely wish that subsequent travel authorization will be approved when I decide to visit again.