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After 60 years together, United States, our partnership must conclude. While I still hold affection for you, 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 you possess countless wonderful qualities.

Natural Beauty and Creative Spirit

Beginning with your magnificent protected lands, soaring ancient trees and distinctive animal species to the enchanting glow of fireflies between crop rows during warm nights and the brilliant fall colors, your natural splendor is extraordinary. Your ability to spark creativity seems boundless, as demonstrated by the inspiring individuals I've met throughout your territory. Many of my most cherished memories revolve around flavors that permanently connect me to you – aromatic cinnamon, seasonal squash dessert, grape jelly. But, America, you've become increasingly difficult to understand.

Ancestral History and Changing Connection

If I were composing a separation letter to the United States, that's how it would begin. I've qualified as an "unintentional U.S. citizen" since birth due to my father and ten generations preceding him, starting in 1636 and featuring revolutionary and civil war soldiers, shared genetic material with a former president and generations of pioneers 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 during the Great Depression; his ancestor fought with the military overseas in the global conflict; his widowed great-grandmother managed agricultural land with numerous offspring; his great-uncle assisted rebuild San Francisco after the 1906 earthquake; while another ancestor ran for political office.

Yet despite this quintessentially American heritage, I find myself no longer feeling connected to the nation. This is particularly true given the perplexing and alarming governmental climate that makes me doubt the meaning of national belonging. This phenomenon has been labeled "citizen insecurity" – and I recognize the symptoms. Currently I wish to establish separation.

Logistical Factors and Economic Strain

I merely lived in the United States a brief period and haven't visited in nearly a decade. I've maintained Australian nationality for almost forty years and no intention to live, work or study within America subsequently. Furthermore, I'm certain I won't require military rescue – thus no functional requirement for me to retain American nationality.

Additionally, the requirement I face as a U.S. citizen to file yearly financial documentation, despite neither living or employed there or eligible for services, proves burdensome and anxiety-inducing. The United States ranks among merely two countries globally – including Eritrea – that impose taxation according to nationality instead of location. And tax conformity is compulsory – it's printed in our passport backs.

Admittedly, a fiscal treaty operates between Australia and the U.S., intended to avoid double taxation, yet filing costs vary from substantial amounts yearly for straightforward declarations, and the procedure represents extremely demanding and convoluted to complete each January, when the U.S. tax period commences.

Compliance Concerns and Final Decision

I've been informed that eventually American officials will mandate conformity and administer substantial fines 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 of filing returns proves distressing and basic financial principles suggest it constitutes inefficient resource allocation. However, ignoring American fiscal duties would mean that visiting involves additional apprehension regarding possible border rejection for non-compliance. Or, I might defer settlement until my estate handles it posthumously. Both options appear unsatisfactory.

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

The threatening formal photograph of Donald Trump, scowling toward visitors within the diplomatic facility – where I recited the renunciation oath – supplied the ultimate impetus. I understand I'm selecting the correct path for my situation and during the official questioning about potential coercion, I truthfully answer no.

A fortnight later I received my certificate of renunciation and my voided travel papers to retain as mementos. My name will reportedly appear on a federal registry. I merely wish that future visa applications gets granted during potential return trips.