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After six decades together, America, our partnership must conclude. Though fondness remains, the passion has diminished 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, towering redwood forests and distinctive animal species to the enchanting glow of fireflies between crop rows during warm nights 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, seasonal squash dessert, fruit preserves. However, United States, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

If I were composing a separation letter to America, that's how it would begin. I've been what's termed an "unintentional U.S. citizen" from delivery because of my paternal lineage and centuries of ancestors before him, commencing in the seventeenth century including revolutionary and civil war soldiers, DNA connections to past leadership and generations of pioneers who traversed the country, from Massachusetts and New Jersey 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 with the military overseas in the global conflict; his widowed great-grandmother managed agricultural land with numerous offspring; his great-uncle assisted reconstruct the city following the seismic disaster; while another ancestor ran as a state senator.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I discover myself increasingly disconnected with the country. This is particularly true given the perplexing and alarming governmental climate that makes me doubt what American identity represents. Experts have termed this "citizen insecurity" – and I believe I experience it. Now I desire to create distance.

Practical Considerations and Financial Burden

I've only resided within America a brief period and haven't visited for eight years. I've held Australian citizenship for almost forty years and no intention to reside, employment or education in the US again. And I'm confident I'll never need emergency extraction – 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, despite neither living nor working there or eligible for services, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. The United States ranks among merely two countries globally – the other being Eritrea – that implement levies based on citizenship rather than residence. And financial compliance is mandatory – it's documented in our passport backs.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists connecting both nations, designed to prevent duplicate payments, but preparation expenses range 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.

Regulatory Issues and Ultimate Choice

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 extremely wealthy figures like Boris Johnson but all Americans overseas need to meet requirements.

Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my decision, the annual expense and stress associated with documentation becomes troubling and fundamental economics indicates it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities could result in travel involves additional apprehension about potential denial at immigration for non-compliance. Or, I might defer settlement until my estate handles it posthumously. Both options appear unsatisfactory.

Holding a U.S. passport represents an opportunity many newcomers earnestly attempt to obtain. 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 performed the citizenship relinquishment – provided the final motivation. I understand I'm selecting the correct path for my circumstances and during the official questioning about potential coercion, I honestly respond negatively.

A fortnight later I received my certificate of renunciation and my voided travel papers to keep as souvenirs. My name will reportedly appear within government records. I merely wish that subsequent travel authorization gets granted when I decide to visit again.