So Long, America—Try Not to Implode

Five scenarios where everything could unravel, and one reason to believe it might not.

Tonight, I leave my homeland behind and become an expat. As I board my flight, I can’t help but wonder: Will there even be a USA to return to in four years? Or ever?

The thought terrifies me.

I’ve built my life, my career, my identity in America. But I can no longer endure the relentless stress, the daily barrage of absurdity.

A year ago, a high-pressure project—for a pharmaceutical company, of all things—put me in the hospital with a stroke. That was my wake-up call.

Some people can tune out the chaos. I’m not one of them. The world seeps in. And now, it feels like I’m suffocating.

So, how bad can it get?

We are institutionalizing racism, misogyny, class warfare, and ethnic cleansing—the very things we once fought wars to stop. The government is rolling back over a century of civil rights progress while stacking every institution with unqualified loyalists. We’ve put the fox in charge of the henhouse—and not even a particularly clever fox.

When did America stop caring about suffering? When did cruelty become a badge of honor? When did looking the other way become a survival strategy?

I don’t know. But I do know that tonight, I board a plane and leave it all behind.

I hope it’s not forever.

I hope there’s still a country to return to.

The Unraveling

Since I don’t have a crystal ball, I turned to AI. Drawing on analyses from Brookings, RAND, and the WEF, I asked two questions:

What would a U.S. breakup look like?
How likely is it to happen?

The short answer? The U.S. breaking apart in the next five years is unlikely—less than 1%. The dollar’s dominance, shared infrastructure, and economic interdependence keep the system intact, at least for now.

But that doesn’t mean the country isn’t tearing itself apart. If the U.S. fractures, it won’t be like the Soviet Union’s dissolution. No peaceful transition, no clean break. Expect chaos—violent, messy, and riddled with economic collapse and legal warfare.

Here are five scenarios to consider.

The Red vs. Blue Fantasy (Unlikely)

The idea of a neat liberal-coast vs. conservative-heartland split is fiction. Every "red" state has blue cities; every "blue" state has conservative rural areas. A forced division wouldn’t just split states—it would rip apart families, neighborhoods, and economies.

Even if someone attempted this ideological divorce, the logistics would be disastrous:

Urban vs. Rural: Texas, Florida, and Georgia may be red, but their major cities (Austin, Houston, Atlanta) lean blue. A split would create civil war-level tensions.
Economic Dependence: Red states rely on federal funding, taking more than they contribute. Could they sustain independence?
Military Intervention: The last time states seceded; we had a Civil War. The military won’t just let it happen.

The Bottom Line: A red vs. blue split is a political fantasy. The reality is far messier—there is no clean way to divide a country as deeply intertwined as the U.S. Any attempt would trigger internal chaos, not orderly separation.

Regional Fracture (More Likely)

A cultural, economic, and geographic breakup is more plausible. The U.S. already functions like semi-independent regions. If Washington weakens, these areas could formalize their autonomy:

Cascadia (WA, OR, BC): Environmentally focused, economically tied to Canada.
California Republic: The world’s fifth-largest economy—if it can fix its water crisis.
The Northeast: A financial and industrial powerhouse, likely to align with NATO.
The South & Midwest: A deeply conservative bloc mixing religious nationalism with protectionist economics.
Texas: Always flirting with secession, but reliant on U.S. trade.

This isn’t hypothetical. States already ignore federal laws. California sets its own emissions standards, Texas sues Washington constantly, and some states refuse to enforce federal gun or abortion laws.

And let’s not forget that this administration wants to delete entire components of our safety net, like FEMA, social care, education and protection of our natural resources.

The Bottom Line: The U.S. is already behaving like a fractured state. The most likely outcome isn’t formal secession but a slow transformation into a decentralized federation where states act independently while still pretending to be a unified country.

Economic Collapse (The Real Existential Threat)

Forget politics—money is the real catalyst for disunion. The U.S. economy is held together by debt, global confidence in the dollar, and federal subsidies keeping struggling states afloat.

President Trump has shown no willingness to understand the complexities as he rips out pieces with no regard for the impact. If that system cracks, states won’t debate secession—they’ll fight for survival.

Potential triggers:

Unsustainable national debt: If foreign creditors lose faith in the U.S., financial collapse follows.
Hyperinflation or banking crisis: A dollar crash could spark mass unemployment and economic hoarding at the state level.
Supply chain failure: COVID exposed our vulnerabilities. A war, climate disaster, or cyberattack could force states into economic isolation.

If Washington loses control, states will stop waiting for federal help and start looking out for themselves. Some will cut ties with weaker regions. Others will hoard food, water, and energy.

The real nightmare? Who controls the military and nuclear weapons if the federal government loses its grip?

The Bottom Line: Economic collapse is the fastest way to break a nation. It wouldn’t just weaken the federal government—it would create a survival-of-the-fittest environment where states prioritize self-preservation over national unity. The unraveling of America might not be ideological—it might just be financial.

Authoritarian Takeover, Then Resistance

A U.S. breakup might not start with secession—it might start with dictatorship.

If a government refuses to relinquish power (Jan. 6th ring any bells?), the battle won’t be between states but between the federal government and regional resistance. Expect cyber warfare, economic sabotage, and mass unrest instead of a traditional war.

Warning signs?

Erosion of free elections.
States openly defying federal law.
The normalization of political violence.

If this continues, the U.S. won’t officially "break up." It’ll still exist on paper but functionally become a patchwork of autonomous zones.

The Bottom Line: The real threat isn’t secession—it’s the erosion of democracy until the U.S. becomes a state in name only.

Military Coup & Controlled Transition

The darkest, least likely and yet the most oddly stabilizing, scenario.

If the U.S. spirals into chaos—whether from economic collapse, civil unrest, or a contested election—the military could step in. Not to restore democracy, but to "preserve order."

This could mean:

A junta-style government suspending civil liberties indefinitely.
A negotiated dissolution, possibly brokered by NATO or the UN.

The U.S. military, despite its right-wing leanings, still has deep institutional loyalty to the Constitution. But if a crisis forces its hand, all bets are off. Think Yugoslavia—but with nukes.

The Bottom Line: A military takeover wouldn’t fix America—it would just delay the inevitable. If the U.S. needs a junta to hold itself together, it’s already broken beyond repair.

Why Much Of This Might Not Happen

For all the warning signs, full collapse is still unlikely. Why?

The military won’t allow nuclear weapons to be divided up.
Interstate supply chains (water, electricity, food, fuel) are too interdependent.
The Constitution provides no legal path for secession—any attempt would trigger federal enforcement.

Instead of a dramatic collapse, America is more likely to drift into a dysfunctional federation—states acting independently while pretending to be part of a united country.

Not a clean split. Just a slow unraveling.

So, Where Does That Leave Me?

I don’t know what the country will look like in five years.

I don’t know if it will still be one nation.

I don’t know if I will ever return.

But tonight, I leave.

And for the first time, I’m not sure if I should even hope for a homecoming.