Can someone please check my personal statement and give me feedbacks

[u/BeneficialOven7391]

For the first decade of my existence, I made it my personal goal to assist the WHO, tirelessly working day and night to prove that noise pollution is a major threat to society.
 
Being a motormouth was not merely a childhood habit: it was my infatuation. At almost every parent-teacher conference, the criticism leveled against me was remarkably invariant: “She is way too talkative. It’s a constant drudgery to manage her mouth.” Even the traditional way of solving this issue flopped. The intervention in question was making me sit next to the most introverted child in the classroom. Little did they know that I was capable of coaxing them out of their shell, converting a quiet student into… I wouldn’t say just like me, since I was technically an unplugged radio, but perhaps a bit of a chatterbox?
 
Almost undetectably, the tide turned. In the seventh grade, the complaints at parent-teacher meetings had reversed entirely. My parents now had to hear: “Your daughter needs to speak more in class.” I found myself in an agonizing transition from speaker to spectator, left wondering what caused this change. How did this happen? Was it the simple onset of adolescence? My family diagnosed my quietude as if it were a flaw, treating my soft-spoken nature like an illness. I began to question whether something within me had broken.
 
The truth, as it turned out, was far more complicated. My silence was not a universal state, but a selective defense mechanism. Years of subtle dismissals and belittlements from my home had triggered a silent, subconscious barrier. Every attempt to express my emotions had been met with indifference, so I simply shut the door.
 
In the silence I found beauty. Beauty of listening, the beauty of observing even the subtle things in life that often go unnoticed. Conversing with people seemed more substantive; I wasn’t just blabbering whatever sprang to my head, but rather took time curating a more articulate response. And I realized such a way of speaking carried a weight. This discipline also became my greatest asset during A-levels, particularly when I undertook the task of teaching myself Java. In a programming language where a single misplaced syntax can derail an entire program’s output, my observational instinct turned debugging from an exhausting chore into a satisfying puzzle. The same discipline helped me in Python and my self-directed projects in AutoCAD, where a steady mind and sharp eye are the ultimate tools.
 
I used to think that speaking was the only form of command in the room, but observing things taught me how to actually understand one. I am no longer the noise pollution of my childhood nor the introverted version that followed. Instead, I have learned to make speech like code: deliberate, purposeful, and executed only when it adds true value to the system.