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After six decades together, America, I'm ending our relationship. Though fondness remains, the romantic connection has faded and the time has come to go our separate ways. I'm leaving by choice, despite the sorrow it brings, because there remains much to admire about you.

Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit

From your breathtaking national parks, towering redwood forests and unique wildlife to the magical illumination of lightning bugs between crop rows during warm nights and the vibrant autumn foliage, your environmental beauty is remarkable. Your ability to spark creativity seems boundless, as evidenced through the inspiring individuals I've encountered within your borders. Many of my most cherished memories revolve around flavors that will forever remind me of you – cinnamon spice, seasonal squash dessert, grape jelly. But, America, 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 including revolutionary and civil war soldiers, DNA connections to past leadership plus multiple eras of settlers who traversed the country, beginning in northeastern states 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 during the first world war; his widowed great-grandmother managed a farm with nine children; his great-uncle assisted rebuild San Francisco after the 1906 earthquake; and his grandfather campaigned for political office.

However, notwithstanding this classic U.S. background, I discover myself increasingly disconnected 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 "citizen insecurity" – and I recognize the symptoms. 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 maintained Australian nationality for most of my life and no intention to reside, employment or education in the US again. Furthermore, I'm certain I won't require military rescue – so there's no practical necessity for me to retain American nationality.

Furthermore, the obligation as an American national to submit annual tax returns, although not residing or employed there nor qualifying for benefits, becomes onerous and stressful. The United States ranks among merely two countries globally – the other being Eritrea – that impose taxation based on citizenship rather than residence. And financial compliance is mandatory – it's printed in our passport backs.

Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates between Australia and the U.S., designed to prevent duplicate payments, yet filing costs vary from substantial amounts yearly even for basic returns, and the process proves extremely demanding and convoluted to complete each January, as the American fiscal cycle begins.

Regulatory Issues and Ultimate Choice

Authorities have indicated that eventually the U.S. government will enforce compliance and impose significant penalties on delinquent individuals. This enforcement doesn't target high-profile individuals but all Americans overseas need to meet requirements.

Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my decision, 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 involves additional apprehension 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 earnestly attempt to obtain. Yet this advantage that creates discomfort personally, thus I'm implementing changes, 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 performed the citizenship relinquishment – provided the final motivation. I recognize I'm choosing the proper direction for my situation and during the official questioning regarding external pressure, I honestly respond negatively.

A fortnight later 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 future visa applications gets granted when I decide to visit again.