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After six decades together, America, our partnership must conclude. While I still hold affection for you, the passion has diminished and the time has come to go our separate ways. 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 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 capacity to ignite innovation appears limitless, as evidenced through the motivational people I've encountered within your borders. Many of my most cherished memories revolve around flavors 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

Were I drafting a farewell message to the United States, 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 including revolutionary and civil war soldiers, shared genetic material with a former president and generations of pioneers who journeyed across the nation, from Massachusetts and New Jersey toward central and western regions.

I experience deep honor in my family's history and their role in the national story. My dad grew up through economic hardship; his grandfather served as a Marine in France in the global conflict; his widowed great-grandmother managed a farm with nine children; his relative helped reconstruct the city following the seismic disaster; and his grandfather campaigned for political office.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I discover myself increasingly disconnected with the country. This is particularly true considering the confusing and concerning political atmosphere that makes me doubt the meaning of national belonging. Experts have termed this "national belonging anxiety" – and I recognize the symptoms. Now I desire to create distance.

Practical Considerations and Financial Burden

I merely lived 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 within America subsequently. And I'm confident I won't require military rescue – thus no functional requirement for me to retain U.S. citizenship.

Furthermore, the obligation I face as a U.S. citizen to file yearly financial documentation, although not residing nor working there or eligible for services, becomes onerous and stressful. America stands with only two nations worldwide – including Eritrea – that impose taxation based on citizenship rather than residence. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's documented within travel documents.

Certainly, a tax agreement exists connecting both nations, intended to avoid double taxation, yet filing costs vary between A$1,200 and A$3,500 annually even for basic returns, and the process proves 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 eventually the U.S. government will enforce compliance and administer substantial fines against non-compliant citizens. This enforcement doesn't target high-profile individuals but every U.S. citizen abroad need to meet requirements.

Although financial matters aren't the main cause for my decision, the recurring cost and anxiety of filing returns proves distressing and basic financial principles suggest it represents poor investment. But neglecting U.S. tax responsibilities would mean that visiting involves additional apprehension regarding possible border rejection due to irregular status. Or, I might defer settlement for inheritance processing after death. Both options appear unsatisfactory.

Possessing American travel documentation constitutes an opportunity many newcomers desperately seek to acquire. But it's a privilege that creates discomfort personally, so I'm taking action, although requiring significant payment to complete the process.

The intimidating official portrait featuring the former president, scowling toward visitors at the U.S. consulate in Sydney – where I performed the citizenship relinquishment – supplied the ultimate impetus. I recognize I'm choosing the proper direction for my situation and when the consular officer inquires regarding external pressure, I truthfully answer no.

A fortnight later I received my certificate of renunciation and my voided travel papers 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.