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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 I'm making the difficult decision to separate. This departure is voluntary, despite the sorrow it brings, because there remains much to admire about you.

Scenic Wonders and Innovative Energy

Beginning with your magnificent protected lands, towering redwood forests and unique wildlife to the magical illumination of lightning bugs between crop rows during warm nights and the brilliant fall colors, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your ability to spark creativity appears limitless, as evidenced through the motivational people I've met throughout your territory. Many of my most cherished memories center on tastes that will forever remind me of you – aromatic cinnamon, seasonal squash dessert, fruit preserves. However, United States, 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 qualified as an "unintentional U.S. citizen" since birth because of my paternal lineage and centuries of ancestors before him, starting in 1636 and featuring military participants in foundational conflicts, DNA connections to past leadership plus multiple eras of settlers who journeyed across the nation, beginning in northeastern states to Ohio, Pennsylvania, Illinois and Kansas.

I feel tremendous pride in my family's history and their contributions to America's narrative. My father experienced childhood during the Great Depression; his ancestor fought with the military overseas in the global conflict; his widowed great-grandmother managed a farm with nine children; his great-uncle assisted reconstruct the city after the 1906 earthquake; and his grandfather campaigned as a state senator.

However, notwithstanding this classic U.S. background, I find myself no longer feeling connected to the nation. This is particularly true given the perplexing and concerning political atmosphere that leaves me questioning what American identity represents. This phenomenon has been labeled "citizen insecurity" – and I believe I experience it. Now I desire to create distance.

Logistical Factors and Economic Strain

I've only resided in the United States a brief period 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 – thus no functional requirement to maintain U.S. citizenship.

Additionally, the requirement as an American national to submit annual tax returns, despite neither living nor working there or eligible for services, becomes onerous and stressful. America stands with merely two countries globally – including Eritrea – that implement levies according to nationality instead of location. And financial compliance is mandatory – it's printed within travel documents.

Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates between Australia and the U.S., intended to avoid double taxation, but preparation expenses range 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.

Regulatory Issues and Ultimate Choice

I've been informed that eventually the U.S. government will enforce compliance and impose significant penalties on delinquent individuals. These measures affect not only extremely wealthy figures like Boris Johnson but every U.S. citizen abroad must fulfill obligations.

While taxation isn't the primary reason for my renunciation, the annual expense and stress of filing returns proves distressing 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. Both options appear unsatisfactory.

Holding a U.S. passport represents an opportunity many newcomers earnestly attempt to obtain. Yet this advantage that feels uncomfortable for me, so I'm taking action, despite the $2,350 cost to complete the process.

The threatening formal photograph 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 understand I'm choosing the proper direction for my circumstances and when the consular officer inquires regarding external pressure, I truthfully answer no.

Two weeks afterward I received my certificate of renunciation and my voided travel papers to retain as mementos. My name will reportedly appear within government records. I merely wish that subsequent travel authorization will be approved when I decide to visit again.